TIMELESS
by nisaeiam
Summary: After spending her entire life in Cretea, Zivia finds herself in the company of the Night Court, sent as an emissary to help after the war. As she navigates her way outside her once secluded life, she develops unlikely bonds with the people around her - especially with the one wreathed in shadows.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

_A few years after The War – Cretea . . ._

Rhysand casually pulled himself off from his seat, the couple across him doing the same.

"Thank you for visiting us" the male said.

"Just making sure you're both alright" he replied as he made a move to extend his hands.

He hadn't told anyone of this particular visit and had snuck out of the Night Court without anyone noticing. He needs to be back soon before someone finally notices and figured he's missing.

The male took his hand and gripped it tightly while lightly patting him on the shoulder with the other, his feathered wings rustling with the movement.

"Our door is always open for your visits" chided the female who then took him into a warm embrace. "As long as you bring snacks"

A small chuckle came out of his lips as he returned the gesture and when they both withdrew from each other's arms, Rhysand's attention snagged the sounds of footsteps – _small footsteps_ – running toward them. Sure enough, a child, barely more than five by the looks of it, appeared by the edge of the veranda where they were just standing. The child stopped short at the sight of him and curiously stared at the enormous black wings that now jutted out from his back, ready to shoot him into the sky before winnowing back home. He offered an equally fascinated look before giving an affectionate smile. The little girl's wings, identical to the male's, but smaller and a brighter version, just tucked in tighter in response.

"It's not polite to gawk at people, sunshine" A gentle scolding from the female as she ushered the child to her side and whispered something in her ear.

He slid his attention back to the male who now stood a little straighter and gave him a terse nod.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call for us"

"I will"

He turned his back to leave but just as he stretched out his wings, the little girl called after him.

_"Goodbye Uncle Rhys"_

The surprise was short lived as he looked back to see the couple seemingly trying to hide their amusement as they patted the child's head. He couldn't help rolling his eyes but smiled over his shoulders nonetheless as he finally soared to the clouds, cold nipping at his wings, and set out for Prythian.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER I**

Feyre let out a groan as she turned in their bed and a ray of warm sunlight brushed her still closed lids. She made a move to flip over to the other side and go back to a deep slumber when the door opened and that familiar scent of salt and citrus wafted into the room.

"Got enough rest, Feyre darling?" her mate inquired as he strode for the bed and perched on its edge.

She propped herself on her elbows and planted a quick kiss on his cheeks. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Your activities yesterday apparently drained you that you fell asleep in the middle of our lovemaking last night that I had to finish it off myself."

Her mate earned a scowl and a smack at that. Indeed, she had worn herself out doing all the piled up work that were temporarily set aside during the Solstice celebration. Not to mention her duties in that studio she and Ressina built for the children of the city who were still trying to cope up with the horrors of _that_ day.

"Besides, you look so cozy in those sheets that it felt so wrong to wake you up." Rhys added as he too gave her a kiss between her brows. "Come on, we have a day ahead of us."

Rolling her eyes as she let her mate pull her out of the bed, she beckoned to the slightly formal attire he's wearing. "What's up?"

He dropped her hand to pull out something from his pocket and handed it to her. It was a small piece of paper – crisp and old but before she could read whatever was written on the note, Rhys declared, "Miryam and Drakon have sent an emissary to help us with the ongoing Treaty negotiations. Mor went to fetch her. We're to meet at the House of Wind in an hour."

* * *

The flight from the river-estate to the House of Wind wasn't exactly a pleasant one. The cold bit at Feyre's wings and she tried her best to remain steady in the air as the last of the winter winds rendered her trembling and numb despite the layers she wore. Rhysand on the other hand doesn't seem to be much bothered.

Azriel and Cassian were already waiting as they landed on the balcony, both in their Illyrian leathers.

"They haven't arrived yet?" Rhys asked in greeting.

"Leave it to Mor to be the one who's always undiplomatically late to any meetings, _ever_." sneered Cassian back. As if in answer, Mor sauntered over through the doors at the other end of the dining room. "We're _not_ late. We were just exploring the house." She continued, throwing a pointed look at him until she now stood across Rhysand.

Their attention, however, went not to her but to the winged female trailing a step behind her. She stopped at the sight of the group, her round eyes widening a bit as she took them in, and they, her. She was wearing a white tunic overlaid by a cream-colored vest that fell just above her knees and held in place by a gilded belt wrapped around her waist. Intricate beadwork adorned the cuffs of sleeves that brushed along her wrists and the vest brocaded with what appeared to be a combination swirls of feathers and sunburst shapes. Strands of her unkempt fringe fell over her face as she gave a small nod acknowledging their presence before offering a smile.

_Beautiful._

Not the devastating type like Rhysand's nor exquisite like Mor's, but something unique and entirely her own. It wasn't just her smile that seemed to brighten her entire face but it's as if all the light in the room gathered around her, making her look more radiant and glowing in an unnatural way, even by faerie standards. And her _wings_ . . .

Feyre have seen their kind back in Adriata and during the battle with Hybern. She recalled Rhys telling her that their species were distant cousins to the Peregryns of the Summer Court and though they bore the same white-feathered wings, she noticed that the former's were more streamlined and elegant compared the fluffier and rounder shape of the latter.

Mor beckoned the Seraphim to her side and as she walked toward them, she noticed an ivory hilted knife tucked in her left thigh, sheathed in a similarly colored ornate scabbard.

"This is Zivia." Declared Mor before waving a hand in their general direction. "Zivia, meet Rhysand and Feyre" She didn't even bother mentioning the males standing to her right, not that they particularly cared anyway.

"Welcome to the Night Court" greeted Rhys.

"Pleasure to meet you again, High Lord" a rolling and rich accent. Again, that tender smile as she took the High Lord's extended arm before turning to Feyre. "High Lady"

There was something familiar and warm in the way she gripped her hand and smiled that made her instantly warm up to her. Rhysand took it upon himself to introduce his Illyrian brothers before they were completely forgotten.

"This is Cassian, General Commander of my armies." He said as Cassian dipped his head and puffed out his chest in a very warrior-like posture. Zivia, to her credit, only smirked as she sized up the commander. "And this is Azriel, my spymaster." The shadowsinger's gloominess seemed to have dwindled at the Seraphim's presence as she turned to him and her attention dropped to his scarred hands. And lingered - a heartbeat too long that Azriel clasped his hands behind his back. She just gave him a rather curious smile in return. But something about what Zivia said earlier had Feyre thinking as she turned to her mate.

"You've met before?"

Rhysand just raised his brows at her before turning back to the emissary in a questioning look. She just stared back, as if waiting for him to remember and declare it himself. She let out a soft chuckle at their utter confusion and drawled,

"_Hello, Uncle Rhys."_


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER II**

Even the roaring winds outside the house seem to pause and join them as they all gaped at a visibly shocked Rhysand. He too has his mouth open and at a loss for words. There was just piercing silence between them before Mor tipped her head back and roared with laughter. The High Lord just threw her an accusatory look.

"Come on now, don't tell me you didn't know." gasped Mor wiping tears from her eyes.

"Of course I _knew!_ " Rhys retorted.

He glanced back at Zivia and looked her up and down.

"Knew what?" Feyre interjected but he just ignored her as he continued.

"He told me he'd sent an emissary. I wasn't expecting he'd actually send his _own_ daughter!" He looked flustered at not being able to recognize his friends' offspring.

Feyre looked at her then; dark long hair bunched together at her nape with a braid and some golden accessory, tips of her pointed ears poking through the sides, honey-brown skin which was undoubtedly Miryam's, and those onyx eyes. She couldn't forget the hope they held as the warrior prince greeted them that day during the fight with Hybern. That was why she felt such familiarity from her. It was their child, now standing before them. She looked at Cassian and Azriel seeking if they share the same sentiment as hers but they just half-heartedly shrugged in reply.

"I don't recall seeing you in the war or the meeting after."

Those eyes turned its attention to her. "I was at Cretea, tending to our people who were left to wait at the island," she shifted on her feet, feathers rustling, "and also so that there would be someone to command the array of soldiers who were likewise made to wait. Just in case."

"Just in case?"

"_Just in case _the remaining allies of Hybern in the northern part of the continent decided to join the fun."

There was absolutely no humor in that even as her lips curled upward to one side. But Cassian seemed to start at her statement.

"You lead a legion of _your_ own?"

"Why not?" It was pure curiosity, no hint of arrogance.

"Unlike your people," Rhysand explained "females in our – _society_ – aren't allowed to lead an army in a fight. Let alone train."

"That's just barbaric!"

The two Illyrian males snorted in agreement even as Rhysand winced at the unintended insult.

"We're currently doing our best to change that."

Zivia just offered a polite nod as if in agreement too.

"Alright!" declared Mor, clapping her hands in front of her "Now that the introductions are done, can we please eat? I'm starving."

* * *

Lunch mostly consisted of the occasional clink of cutlery on plates and Mor's voice narrating her progress on her various visits with the kingdoms and territories across the continent, still no news about the mortal queens. It's been months after the war with Hybern but there had been no substantial change in their situation. Progress has been painstakingly slow. Not to mention the growing unrest within the Night Court itself. Rhysand took a deep and long breath as he dug into his peas. In an attempt to keep the conversation going as well as lighten the mood, Feyre gestured at Zivia and asked her about their life on Cretea and what they've been up to in the past centuries.

"The usual" She started. "One you'd expect from a group of people who lives undisturbed for a couple of centuries. After The War, people are still coping, broken but moving forward. Casualties were great, but they're finally liberated and it's kind of a gift in itself as they were able to start anew in the kingdom, not as slaves anymore but as free people – regardless of your blood heritage. We peacefully went on with our lives, content with the world believing that we perished on the sea; built more homes for the growing populace and continued raising our army, which many definitely thought was futile, considering our very _un-tumultous _state for the past years, but my father insisted saying it pays to be always ready whatever your circumstances are. Centuries later, it certainly did." A pleased expression on her face appeared as she remembered how it had helped Rhysand, her father's friend in the war. "Besides, they couldn't have disagreed with him, out of respect for his position perhaps." She concluded with a nonchalant shrug.

"Drakon never told me he has been promoted to Kingship" chided Rhysand as he took in a spoonful of mashed potatoes.

Mor and Cassian were now bickering over a bottle of wine. Azriel, as usual, quietly dug into his own plate without much of a fuss, save for occasional glances at the emissary. Which is quite unusual since Mor is usually the recipient of those glimpses, yet there was nothing there but pure curiosity.

Zivia just gave a one shouldered shrug.

"They're king and queen in name only. Not exactly rulers in their own right but much more like their overseer"

She lifted her glass to receive the wine offered to her. "Thank you, Mor." She took a sip when Rhysand paused, a slice of roasted chicken hovering before his partially open mouth.

"Wait, you called her Mor"

"Hmm?" Nose buried in her cup, Zivia looked at Rhys then set it down on the table. "Isn't that her name?"

"You called me _uncle_" He set the fork back on the plate.

Morrigan was casually hiding her smile as she chewed, no doubt suppressing a laugh.

"He doesn't want to accept the fact that he's already that old." Feyre teased, earning her a scowl from him.

"So damn old!" added Cassian in a toast to Rhysand's direction before taking a sip from his glass. The shadowsinger raised his own in agreement.

"_You're both older than me_!" the high lord practically shrieked.

Zivia chuckled.

"You're reacting exactly as my mother predicted." She unfolded a napkin and started wiping the corners of her mouth. "Who would've thought, that of all things, the feared high lord of the Night Court is rather insecure about his age?"

That sent the whole table laughing. Rhysand, for once, seemed to have ran out of a retort. Utterly defeated, he turned to his mate only to find her staring at the Seraphim with pure fascination before looking at him, smiling widely.

"I like her."


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER III**

The clashing of metal against metal echoed through the training grounds atop the House of Wind. It would appear that Rhysand thought it was a good time as any to have a sparring match with his Illyrian brothers, dragging along Feyre, insisting that it has been ages since she partake in her lessons with Cassian causing her to become rusty and out of shape. Mor thought it was just an excuse to let out his frustration over being regarded as a grumpy _old_ man.

It has been a good few minutes before Feyre held up a hand and asked for a break. She floundered toward the small table where a pitcher of water awaits. Zivia, who was watching from the side-lines, offered her a stool. Panting heavily, she set herself down and poured herself a drink.

"Where's Mor?" she asked as she wiped off her sweat with the back of her palm.

"She left." The Seraphim's eyes were fixated on the two males clashing blades on the other open ring across from them. "Something about some personal business to attend to." She looked at Feyre and added, "Said she'll be back in time for dinner."

Feyre just loosed a long sigh and downed her drink in one gulp when Cassian joined them. Unlike his high lady, he doesn't seem to have spent that much effort in the training. Not even a drop of sweat glinted at his brows.

"Want to give it a go?"

The general seemed to have noticed Zivia's attentiveness in their matches. She met his look, assessing, and then turned her head back toward Azriel and Rhys who continued on with no intention of taking a break anytime soon. Throwing a sidelong glance back at Cassian, her lips slowly curled into that in between of a smile and a smirk.

* * *

The emissary has foregone her finery and opted for a more battle-appropriate attire. She now wore pearl-white leathers, the sleeves ending in points at the back of her palm, held in place by a golden ring looped around her middle finger. Twirling patterns of interlocking vines were etched along the seams. Her pants were tucked in knee-high boots giving an overall appearance of a well-toned body. Together with her white wings that catches the light with every movement and again with that unnatural glow, she looked truly immaculate.

Two curving daggers glinted on either thigh as she strode for the ring where Cassian stood, waiting. The two are so in contrast with each other as they came face to face – a raven and a dove – but _far_ more deadlier. Azriel and Rhysand halted their sparring to watch. Feyre remained seated on her stool.

"Do you want me to go easy?"

It wasn't exactly a mocking and Zivia seemed to take no offense nonetheless. She just angled her head and declared, "By all means, show me what an Illyrian is made of."

"Okay then."

The tension in the air rose as both warriors took their battle stances.

"My money's on Zivia!" blurted Rhys as he now stood crossed-arm beside Feyre, Az helping himself with a drink next to them. Cassian threw him a narrowed look and made a vulgar gesture when –

In a span of a heartbeat, Zivia has taken out one of her daggers, closed the distance between them and now have the tip of the weapon pointed directly at Cassian's throat.

"_Never_ take your eyes off your opponent."

Everyone took a collective breath as the stunned general remained frozen for a second when Zivia lowered her weapon and backed away four steps. Cassian's throat bobbed as he shifted on his feet. A wicked grin appeared on his lips as he took his sword in his hand.

Silence fell as Zivia and Cassian looked eye to eye, and began, at the same moment, to circle each other. What came next were flashes of quicksilver as sword and dagger met. A strike here and a jab there; blades clanging as one tried to best the other. The three audiences to their fight couldn't help but marvel at the scene unfolding before them. At the female, who, mere hours ago looked every bit the lady and the epitome of grace and casualness, now going head to head with the Illyrian commander, refusing to yield to his might.

Zivia swung her dagger, aiming for the exposed left of Cassian but he quickly shifted, evading the attack then drove his feet hard into her chest, sending the female warrior skidding into the dirt. Twin gasps came out of Feyre _and _Cassian as the latter realized what he had just done. Guilt instantly cut across his face but before he could make a move to help, Zivia rolled and swept his feet out from beneath him making him fall to his knees, one arm braced on the ground. Fast as lightning, she had him in a chokehold.

"Never underestimate your opponent." She muttered in his ear.

She released him just as quick.

Cassia stood, rubbing his neck. "I'm sorry about that." Though he certainly didn't sound apologetic. In fact, he looked determined, that predatory gaze gleaming his eyes. _This girl definitely has that fire in her._

Another bout of steel clashing ensued. Cassian raised his sword to strike while Zivia also raised both daggers to deflect the blow, going on the defensive. Both fought in earnest. _Attack. Defend. Attack. Defend._ A fling of Cassian's sword sent one of Zivia's daggers flying. Another swing would've hit her if only he didn't hesitate mid-swing. She countered with a quick thrust of her remaining knife, barely grazing his stomach. She then tossed the blade into the sky, watching with satisfaction as the Illyrian's eyes flick up to follow the weapon's path, before striking. She crouched down and slid her leg under him causing his knees to buckle. She was above him in an instant, pinning him on the ground as she caught the dagger, flipped it and brought it down, stopping mere inches between Cassian's brows.

"Never hesitate to land the killing blow" she panted.

A moment passed before she dropped her hands and jumped off him. Propping himself on his elbows, Cassian grinned.

"You would be headless by now if I did."

She returned the grin and extended a hand to help him up.

_"Touch_é_"_


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER IV**

The air has turned balmy as both Zivia and Feyre ambled along the streets of Velaris. After that epic sparring session with the Illyrian general, the emissary has taken some time to refresh herself before the High Lady invited her to a tour around the city which she gladly accepted. After a quick stop at the river-estate, the two females went on their way with Rhysand and Azriel staying behind to discuss whatever new information the spymaster have gathered and Cassian off to his usual duties at the Illyrian mountains.

"I can't believe you actually held your own against Cassian." Feyre mused as they passed along the part of the Sidra where rebuilding was still ongoing.

"My father decided to introduce to me the art of sword fight and battle when I reached adolescence, much to my mother's chagrin." Zivia replied with a soft snort. "I've been wielding a weapon ever since then and I may not look like it but I've already clashed blades with soldiers countless of times, faced opponents much stronger than I am. He's just another battle – another one of my sparring partners in that regard."

"I'm sorry." blurted Feyre, putting a hand on her chest in apology. "I didn't mean to underestimate you."

The Seraphim turned her head away from the people who paused their repairs to look at them. "No need to apologize, my lady. Besides, he wasn't even fighting with his full strength. He seemed to be bothered by something which inadvertently caused him to hold back."

Feyre hadn't noticed that but figured as much. He and Nesta must have been at it again.

They quietly meandered through various shops, taking a look at some of their goods before going back to the street and moving on. A handful of people would turn their heads as they walked by, stopping whatever they're doing to stare, not at their High Lady but at her companion, whose wings were definitely not the same black membranous one they're used to seeing.

"You don't have to address me like that. You can just call me Feyre." Feyre said, "Makes it a little less . . . formal."

They owe her parents after all. She wasn't about to make her feel like it's the other way around.

"Don't fancy being called _aunt?_" Zivia threw a side glance at her.

"Oh. I – no. I mean that's okay, too. If . . .if that's what you prefer." Feyre stumbled a step and coughed to cover her blunder and surprise.

"Don't look so awkward now, I was just kidding. I won't address you that, especially when I consider your husband an older brother of mine."

"_What_?"

"You see, as a small part of me is mortal, I grew quicker than most High Fae reaching full maturity when I turned eighteen – compared to the _usual_ seventy – so technically, I am the same age as them. Well, not that we have that much of an age gap to start with." She turned her face toward Feyre, wiggling her brows. "But don't tell him that. I find it really amusing to see him irritated whenever I call him 'uncle'."

A wicked grin appeared on her lips. Feyre was about to say that that would make two of them but she asked instead, "Part mortal?"

"I was conceived during the war, before my mother was skewered by the Queen of the Black Lands and Made into an immortal." Zivia shrugged as she strode towards a sweet shop vendor.

Feyre did remember Miryam being born of a human mother and a Fae father. That mortal blood surely passed on to her daughter. She looked at Zivia, who now busied herself with something from the shop, and remembered how her mother exuded a more _human feel _despite being a Half Fae. The Seraphim walked back to her with a candy on her mouth and bars of chocolate on either hand.

"This place is magnificent," she drawled pocketing the goods she bought, "but as much as I'd like to keep on exploring, I think we should head back _before_ these people gobble me up with their gawking."

She took Feyre's hand before whispering, "I'm not particularly fond of having this much attention to myself."

Feyre just chuckled and winked at her. "I know someone who would share the same sentiment."

And with that, they walked hand in hand back to the estate.

* * *

Dinner had been quick. Mor nowhere to be found, not having returned from wherever she's gone to since afternoon. Feyre urged Zivia to stay at the estate after dinner saying she was more than just their guest and that it would feel improper to leave her alone at the House of Wind.

"It's fine." She reasoned, politely declining the offer. "I love the view up here. It makes me feel closer to the sky."

Feyre didn't argue but insisted on sending servants to accompany and assist her should she need anything, before flying out with her mate, the others retiring to their own places for the night.


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER V**

"He did _what_ to you?" Mor shrieked as she turned an incredulous look at Zivia.

The Seraphim recoiled a bit at her sudden outburst, Azriel snapping his head up from a document he's reading to look at them from across where he's seated. The three of them were gathered around an oak table in one of the studies at the House of Wind. After breakfast, Rhysand told them that he'd be taking care of some issues with Feyre regarding the still ongoing constructions at the city leaving them to talk about the negotiations on the continent.

After much pestering from Mor, Zivia recounted her sparring with Cassian yesterday, telling her about every single detail as she requested, when she got to the part involving her unceremoniously falling to the ground.

"That bastard better be glad that I wasn't there." Mor continued. "I would've beaten his ass myself for kicking a helpless lady in a battle."

"She wasn't exactly helpless, you know," chided Azriel who had gone back to his papers.

A sheepish blush crept up Zivia's neck.

"Right" Mor said returning her attention back on the table. "I wish I was there to witness it though."

"Where have you been yesterday?"

Mor tensed at Azriel's sudden question. She tried to meet his gaze. "Oh." A muscle twitched in her jaw. "I was . . .busy." She threw a nonchalant smile before occupying herself again with the papers.

Azriel's stare didn't stray from her face. It clearly wasn't the answer he wanted to hear and it's obvious that there's something that she's purposely not telling. He noticed Zivia watching them and went back to his own documents.

An awkward silence followed. They were supposed to be _talking_ about things but they didn't. Save for occasional whispers of "look at this" or "this might be helpful", they just passed around papers to the other whenever someone found an information worth noting. It was a good few minutes of nothing but sounds of rustling papers.

"The shadows," Zivia said, breaking the silence that cocooned them. "They talk to you."

Mor and Azriel lifted their gazes from the files they're holding and turned to the Seraphim. Her attention was focused on the spymaster and the shadows that lurked around him.

"You can hear them?" asked Mor

"The wind; I hear their whispers through the wind."

The confusion must have shown in Mor's face that Zivia went on to explain.

"Seraphims are gifted with the magic of wind and air. We command and use them like it's an extension of our own body. I have long learned to understand how it _feels _and hear the voices it carries around."

She turned toward the Azriel and found him looking back with an unsure expression, tendrils of shadows sliding over his neck and down his arms.

"Az is a shadowsinger." Mor told her.

"Ah. Of course." She replied nodding her head at him. His wings shifted slightly before reaching for another one of the documents sprawled on the table.

* * *

After the meeting with the townspeople at the city, Rhysand dropped off Feyre at the studio where Ressina and a group of children were already waiting, before flying to the House of Wind alone. Finding the three still deep in discussion, he took the seat at the head of the table and loosed a sigh as he took a paper from Azriel.

"Well, it seems that I was right to appoint you as our ambassador to the continent." He gave Mor a narrowed look. "You didn't scare them out of their wits to even actually consider opposing you, _did you_?"

"Of course not!" Mor replied sarcastically.

Rhysand huffed a laugh and turned back to the papers. "There are still kingdoms that are refusing to yield but at least most of them agreed not to push far into the southern lands – _for now_." He settled the documents back on the table and crossed his arms. "That leaves the human territories."

"What about them?" asked Zivia.

"It isn't just the faeries we needed to persuade. Ever since the collapse of the wall, relationship on either side has become much more unstable. We don't want them marching into each other's territories and wage another war. We needed them to be able to trust us our _kind_ if we're to achieve peace."

"I could make some side trips if it's what's needed," chirped Mor.

"No" Rhysand quickly said as Azriel opened his mouth to say something.

Mor looked at Rhysand then to Azriel, stiff-backed in his chair avoiding her gaze, then turned back to Rhys.

"You will continue your job at the continent. You're doing great in your visits. We wouldn't compromise that."

"So who's going?"

The High Lord blinked at her and slowly turned his head towards Zivia. "You've been living along humans for a very long time." The Seraphim sat straighter. "If there's someone who knows how to deal with mortals and get them to believe that we're not a threat to their kind, it would be you."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Mor interrupted. "The humans she's been living with are a far cry from the ones on the continent. It's not going to be safe for her."

"I'm sure you're very aware of how _well_ she can actually handle herself, cousin."

"I'll do it." Zivia declared with smug casualness.

"That settles it." Rhys said before Mor could offer any more of her qualms.

"Fine." Conceded Mor as she lay back in her chair and stretched her legs. "Why not let Azriel go too?"

They all turned to look at her. Even the shadowsinger seemed surprised and confused at her sudden proposal. She shrugged and started picking at her nails.

"We don't have enough information about the human territories in the continent anyway and we can't count on Lucien to go _ambassador-ing_ into those territories anytime soon. He's been quite busy with his little 'Band of Exiles'."

Mor shifted on her seat and looked at Rhysand. "What I'm saying is that this is a good opportunity for Az to gather more intel in those lands. He can accompany Ziv here and get a much closer look at it."

Rhysand considered her suggestion for a moment. They indeed needed that information if they were to proceed with the treaty and Mor was right, Lucien has been visiting less since after the winter solstice. He looked at Zivia and Azriel.

"As much as I like that idea, I don't think the humans would take it well if two _unusually_ attractive winged faeries just suddenly appeared in front of them proclaiming safety and peace. I'm not familiar with mortal religions but – "

"I get what you mean" said Mor smothering a laugh.

"I can cast an illusion on both of us." Zivia chided.

"You mean a glamour? That doesn't do much – "

"No. It's different."

Zivia cut off Rhys as she stood from her chair and stepped away from the table. She waved a hand and sparks danced in the air around her. Her image started to ripple like waves in the water. One second she was a Seraphim, the next she's something else entirely. Where white feathered wings once jutted from her back are now black membranous ones, with gleaming talons at the apex of each. _Illyrian._

"How did you do that?" breathed Mor as she rose and approached Zivia. The two _actual_ Illyrians remained seated, wide-eyed at the Seraphim's display.

"I manipulated the light around me. It's a more powerful magic than a glamour. I can trick your eyes to see whatever it is I want you to see and you won't be able to resist it."

Another wave of her hand and the wings vanished. She now stood before them as a mortal version of herself. Gone were the pointed ears and the unusual glow of her skin.

"Interesting," murmured Rhys as he surveyed her.

"Are all Seraphims capable of this _magic_?" asked Azriel. His surprise is now replaced by a curious look.

"No." Zivia replied. Her image rippled again and she's back to normal. "It's just . . . me."

They stared at each other for a moment before Rhysand cleared his throat and addressed his spymaster.

"Well?"

Azriel gave a quick glance towards Mor before facing his High Lord.

"Give me the order and I'll go."


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER VI**

The city of Velaris glowed under the afternoon sun as Zivia leaned over the balcony at the House of Wind. The others have left after their discussion earlier, except for Mor.

"Isn't it pretty?" she said as she stepped beside her on the railing.

The wind blew and Zivia closed her eyes, feeling the sweet caress on her face. "It is."

"Sorry about earlier."

She opened her eyes and turned toward Mor who appeared to be looking far into the city, but not really. Her gaze felt lost farther away.

"Do I really look that weak?" She meant it as a joke.

"No! Of course not, no." Mor snapped her attention to her and shook her head vigorously. "I don't doubt your abilities for a second. I know how you're completely capable of handling yourself on your own." She let out a soft chuckle. "The moment I saw how you effortlessly got under Rhys's skin I knew that then."

Zivia lifted her brows as a smile tugged at her lips. It was never her intention to annoy the High Lord, contrary to what her parents probably would have wanted her to do, but she didn't think that it would be so easy. Sure, she was told that the strongest Lord in Prythian's history isn't at all that bad and terrorizing as people perceives him to be but to actually see that soft albeit sensitive side of his, she couldn't help but tease him for it and that it wouldn't take that much effort on her part.

Mor looked back over the balcony. Her golden locks catching the afternoon chill.

"It was a piss-poor attempt to get Azriel to volunteer accompanying you."

"Why?"

"Because I – " She took a deep breath as if trying to snatch her lost words from the air. "You see, my _father_ will be coming here in a week."

The bite in her voice at the word 'father' told her something about their relationship. Her suspicions were confirmed when Mor told her the story of her past with her family and the events that led to him going to the city.

"Az and Cassian would be looking out for him the entire visit. By the cauldron, they've actually been planning security protocols for _months_ now!"

"But you're still skeptical."

"Yes." Mor sighed. "I just have this feeling that it won't go well. I know Keir. He'll think my absence as a sign of weakness and he wouldn't pass an opportunity to mock me in their presence. Azriel, he'd – " She cut herself off and started shaking her head. "It won't end well."

"You care for him."

It was more of a question than a declaration. Zivia noticed the tension between the two every time they get into close proximity with each other. If not for the fact that either of them would intentionally avoid or ignore each other at some times, she'd actually think that they're together.

"It's not like that." Mor said. "I mean I do care for him, but not in _that_ way. It's really complicated."

"Ah. But he cares for you in _that_ way."

Mor paused, puckering her lips as she threw a side glance at her.

"He's really not that good in hiding that, is he? Not as much as he thinks he does, at least."

She shrugged her shoulders and gave her a tight-lipped smile in reply. Anyone would've discerned those occasional glances that the Illyrian sends her way, the way his shadows would disappear in her presence or how his aura changes at the sight of her. How his unreadable face becomes readable; muscles in his jaw relaxing, gaze softening ever so slightly, lips trembling a bit – "

She shook her head at the thought. She's paying _too much_ attention.

"Well good thing you got him to go." She muttered as she scratched her nose, ignoring the heat that crept up her body.

"_Good thing_ that Rhys allowed him to go. He probably knew what I was trying to do. He knew that that visit won't go as smoothly as he wants it to be if Azriel were to be included in the equation, given what happened the last time he and Eris met."

"No worries. I'll keep him occupied."

As soon as the words left her lips, she regretted saying them. The look on Mor's face told her enough how it all sounded so wrong. She should've used a different term. But before she could explain herself, Mor gave her a mischievous smile and said, "I know you would."

Then she left her at the balcony cursing at herself for being flustered.

* * *

_Stardusts_

That's what Zivia thought as she looked at all the lights dancing off the waves of the river. It looked like an extension of the night sky above them – full of stars that are so close to the touch. They just finished eating dinner at a restaurant where the group clearly frequented as the owner blurted "_Oh, a newcomer!"_ as soon as she saw her.

The food they had wasn't anything like she tasted before and as much as she'd like to gorge herself on it, she couldn't help feeling all nervous and awkward infront a large group of people. It was one thing to dine with the High Lord and his entourage at the House of Wind. Eating out with them at a public place like this was definitely out of her comfort zone. Not to mention the addition of two more people – one whose presence reminded her of Jude, her father's general and also the one who trained her. Despite the female's small stature, she looked threatening enough that she felt like standing in attention and ready to obey her every command. The other one made her lament her absolute lack of effort in making herself presentable. Not that it would make her any prettier than the lady who so effortlessly looked like a goddess. She later learned that she's actually the High Lady's older sister.

_ The Cauldron definitely didn't hold back when it created these beings._

She was deep in thought when Mor slung an arm over her shoulder and giggled in her ear.

"Want to come with us?"

Her cheeks were flushed with alcohol but she doesn't seem too drunk, _yet._

"Where? We just ate."

"We're going to Rita's," said Cassian, appearing at their side. "Mor here likes to dance. Join us and we'll show you how great parties are here at the Night Court."

"I have no intention of making a spectacle of myself, thank you very much."

Cassian let out a snort but she ignored it. The thought of going for a dance at this hour wasn't exactly how she envisioned spending the rest of her night. Besides, she already reached the limit of her allotted social interactions for the day. She needed – wanted – to be alone for now. And she couldn't dance.

"Come on. It'll be fun!" pleaded Mor. "Azriel's coming too."

Her head snapped to the shadowsinger who was lounging by the diner's entrance. He was having a conversation with the petite female while Rhysand was busy paying their tab, Feyre and her sister were saying their thanks to the shopowner.

He obviously didn't strike her as the reveller sort but perhaps broody guys also needed to let themselves loose once in a while. Squinting her eyes, she tried to imagine how is he actually going to do that. It seems odd – if not entirely weird and unlikely. He turned and met her eyes, eyebrows shooting up in question. She quickly averted and focused back on Mor.

"Uhh. No. I'm sorry but I'm feeling a bit tired already so I'll have to pass."

She flashed an awkward smile and hoped that they wouldn't press any further because she couldn't think of any more lousy excuses to give.

Thank the Mother they didn't.

They all exchanged farewells as they parted ways. Mor gave her a small wave as she walked up the street to where Cassian was already waiting. Azriel followed behind. The High Lady and her sister headed straight for the river-estate while the other female – Amren – went off on her own. She doesn't seem to be staying with them as she did not see her either at the house the time she went there.

"Don't tell me you're going dancing too?" she said when they were all out of sight and Rhysand remained standing across her at the riverside.

"I might," he chuckled. "But no, I need to retrieve something from the town house."

She considered for a moment before offering to walk with him there, saying something about helping in digestion. Rhys just cocked his head and started walking.

"How are Miraym and Drakon doing?" he asked as they strode over the bridge. Some of the people would pause to greet their lord whenever they passed by them. It still quite unnerves her whenever their attention would fall on her so she threw an illusion to hide her attention-seeking wings.

"They're doing fine now. They've been quite busy since after returning from the war creating various wards and spells to ensure that the Cauldron remains hidden – untouched and safe deep within the island."

"Sorry for putting that burden to your parents."

"I'm sure they don't mind. It wasn't much of an inconvenience for them as you might think. They don't seem to be bothered by anything, really."

"So you think they don't mind sending you here when they know how unstable the situation is and that you could be targeted for knowing where _that _thing is hidden?"

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm not a youngling anymore _uncle_."

Rhysand winced at the title and she stifled a laugh at his reaction. It wasn't really his fault for not expecting her to be the one sent as Cretea's emissary.

"Besides," she continued. "I think they're more than willing to have me out of the palace for once. Honestly, it is a mystery how I haven't had any other sibling yet."

The High Lord burst out into laughter and she had to physically stop him to avoid more attention from around them.

"You know," he said in between breaths "I'd actually think that they had put that spell around the island for that sole purpose."

They passed along the street where the sweet shop she bought chocolates from before stood and was tempted to run straight to it. She already feels the weight of the meal she had settle down her stomach.

_There's always room for a desert._

Later, she thought. She'd come back later.

She was busy contemplating what to buy that she forgot about what Rhys said.

"Oh that. That may have been because of me actually."

"What do you mean?"

"Three centuries ago, I wandered off the border and got caught in an accident that almost killed me."

All the amusement vanished from the high lord's face instantly. He turned towards her expecting more from her story.

"They had to set up the shield after that." She gave him a wide-toothed smile. "They had no idea that it would be so effective to even deter good-willing people; gave you a hard time calling out for us."

It was an effort to shrug it off like it didn't matter a bit – like it still doesn't affect her to this day. Rhysand, sensing her unease about the topic, was quiet for a moment. He just nodded in understanding and continued walking in silence until they reached the front porch of the town house.

"Don't go telling me now that I don't have to go," she demanded as he turned to face her. "I know the risks. You saved my mother back then, let me return the favour."

"That debt has already been paid. I don't want to endanger the daughter that my friends have done so much to keep safe."

She can see it in his eyes, the desire to protect people. She heard the story of what he did to spare his family from the clutches of Amarantha and of how he died to let them live. He's the kind of person who would rather lay down his life than let those close to him get hurt. It warmed her heart that that devotion extended to her even if they haven't been that close.

"You'd make a really good father."

That took him by surprise. His serious demeanor was gone in an instant and she coughed to cover the laugh rising up her throat. It was a priceless reaction he'd made but she was not going to tease him for that.

"I'll be fine," she insisted as Rhys blinked away any lingering surprise on his face. "I've got one of your famed Illyrian warriors on my side. We're going to be a force to reckon with."

She wiggled her eyebrows at him and a warm hearted smile was the only indication that she was able to sway him.


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER VII**

"It was here."

Zivia muttered under her breath then took another turn in an alley. She had been walking around the streets of the city for minutes now after leaving Rhys at the town house, looking for the sweet shop they passed by earlier.

She rolled her eyes as another dead end met her. Turning back, she scratched her head as she casually walked back to the main street. Some of the faeries would occasionally look at her and she best hoped that they couldn't see how utterly and pathetically lost she was. As much as she thanks the Mother for giving her gift, she couldn't help thinking _would it hurt anyone for her to do something about her terrible sense of direction?_

She growled in frustration and just as she was about to give it up and fly home, she sensed a familiar presence around the corner.

"I thought you were dancing?" she said as Azriel emerged from the shadows lining the alleys. He looked a bit surprised at her noticing him

"And I thought you were tired," he countered.

"Well I am now." She loosed a sigh blowing the loose strands of hair from her face.

His eyes narrowed at her and she felt stupid for her sarcastic retort. She opened her mouth to say something but realized that he wasn't exactly looking at her but at something behind her. _Her wings_. Or where her wings were supposed to be, at least. She hadn't let down her illusion since conjuring it up back at the bridge.

It was that same look he was giving that prompted her to ask, "What is it?"

The others might not have noticed but she saw all that curious looks he was giving her the moment she arrived at the Court. It would be incredibly stupid of her to think they meant anything besides him being suspicious of her. She met his eyes that almost looked black in the dark.

_"What are you?"_

She blinked.

"Excuse me?"

Last time she checked, she was still a high-Fae complete with all the necessary limbs but she ransacked her memory for any possible instance she could've gone wrong with casting her glamour. She once tried to make herself look like a wyvern only to end up her looking like a hybrid between a monkey and a horse – almost gave her father a quick trip to the afterlife, she could still remember. But that was _centuries_ ago. Surely she's gotten a better grip on her powers now.

"You look like you're having an identity crisis," said Azriel noting the horrified expression on her face, an almost smirk ghosting his lips.

"Yes!" she blurted, "No! I mean, don't…don't I look normal to you?" She hated that she sounded desperate and worried.

He made a strangled sound that might have been a laugh. He covered it with a cough and said, "What I meant was the kind of magic you use."

_Oh._

She scratched her nose in embarrassment. _Stupid._

Her magic, of course it would be about that. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to her if the spymaster asked her about it. She had actually been expecting for him to make a move the moment she knew that he knew something was off about her. Feigning ignorance would only increase his wariness towards her, and if they were going to spend time together in the Continent, it definitely wouldn't help.

"It's my gift," she said as Azriel stepped completely out of the shadows. "Aside from my deft use of the air magic that our kind possesses."

Like being a _daemati_ or a shadowsinger. But she couldn't discern what hers was called exactly.

The Illyrian started walking and though he didn't say anything, she felt inclined to follow.

"The High Lord of the Day Court has the same affinity towards light," she ventured, falling into step beside him.

"But it's different. Helion's light allows him to break various kinds of spells. Yours doesn't do that." His voice sounded accusatory.

"It doesn't," she murmured more to herself than him.

The way she uses light allows her to manipulate it at its basest form giving her access to bend it to her will and to merge with it altogether.

"It feels a lot like mine."

She turned toward the shadowsinger. "That was what I felt whenever I see those shadows around you."

That was what it _was_ that has always been tugging at the back of her mind but couldn't quite place.

"I have not met another shadowsinger yet and I'm wondering what you were for being someone who could use a magic similar to mine but with a different element."

And all those curious looks he was giving made sense now too.

Maybe that's what she really was - a _lightsinger_.

_Nope_.

Doesn't sound good, didn't seem right either.

"I guess it has something to do with me being in my mother's belly when she was Made, probably messed up something during my development."

Ever since discovering her abilities at a very young age, her parents have always been puzzled how it was unlike any other magic they've known. But that was the extent of it. It didn't matter whatever kind of power she had as long as she was alive and healthy, considering the ordeal she and Miryam went through together.

Azriel inclined his head as if deciding whether that was explanation enough. The gesture made his face catch the light in all the right places and she hated that little tumble her heart made at the sight of it.

After a while, he halted and faced her. "I'll go from here." He paused, considering. "Do you want me to accompany you back to the House of Wind?"

Her cheeks heated and she fumbled for a response. "No. I'm – I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

She raised a brow at him. "_Yes."_

Azriel tipped his head in a bow before spreading his mighty wings and shot toward the sky, sending waves of humid night air. Her eyes followed him for a moment while she smoothed her hair back into place and deciding to call it a day, she turned on her heels to go when she found herself standing in front of a shop lined with jars of rainbow-colored candies and stacks of chocolate bars.

_No way._

She quickly looked back towards where the spymaster has flown to but he was already gone. Reluctantly, she entered the shop unable to decide whether to feel thankful or embarrassed.

* * *

Their trip to the Continent wasn't scheduled for another day and Zivia spent most of her time waiting cooped up inside the library, gathering as much information as she possibly could.

Being secluded in an island away from the rest of the world for centuries, she needed to increase her limited knowledge about how things exactly go in the outside world. She was reminded about Mor saying that the mortals she's used to won't be the same as the ones they are going to deal with and she wasn't about to make a fool out of herself and disappoint the High Lord especially not in front of his spymaster. Hopefully, her experience in politics and with humans back in Cretea would help her through it.

She just came out of the library and on the way to sun her wings after spending hours inside when Cassian landed in the balcony.

"Hey there, princess," he greeted.

"Please don't call me that." Her brow furrowed at him. "What do you want?"

The Illyrian flicked an invisible dust on his armor as he tucked in his wings and stepped inside the dining room.

"I was wondering if you're up for another exercise."

"Again?"

The two of them have spent some time at the training grounds above the house, sparring with each other. She was quite surprised when he first asked her to train with him and, thinking it would be a nice way to kill time, she obliged with his request. It wasn't a total shock when he came back to ask a second time. And a third and a fourth…

"Let me guess, the High Lord was again busy with all his lord-_ly _duties and Azriel is out there spying and whatnot?"

He turned to her and smiled sheepishly. "I'm telling the truth this time."

When he told her that days ago, she knew he was lying but she did not dare call him out for it when he clearly looked upset and mad.

"You know I'm not some kind of punching bag where you can punch away all of your frustrations hoping to chase them off from constantly bugging you."

She met his gaze and for a moment, his muscles went taut and he stood with utter stillness that Zivia second-guessed whether it was right to bring up this subject. But she knows that they both knew what – or rather _who_ – was the reason behind his constant need to vent out.

"So is that a yes?" he asked, all the tension disappearing from him like a smoke on a windy day. A wide-toothed grin now plastered on his face.

She couldn't help rolling her eyes as she threw up her hands in exasperation and they both head to the training grounds without any delay. They've somehow developed an unlikely platonic bond during those times and she would really feel bad for not helping him on this one.

It was barely half an hour after her workout session with Cassian when Rhysand sent out notice that he'll be meeting them at the estate to talk about last-minute plans before they set off for the Continent. Azriel and Cassian were already present when she got there. Mor arrived few minutes after her.

"What happened to you?" exclaimed Cassian throwing an incredulous look at Mor. "You look … rushed."

Indeed, the female looked like she just got up from bed, her hair disheveled as if hastily styled and she wore a dress that was probably the first thing she saw after waking up and didn't bother looking for another.

"I got the notice late," Mor reasoned as she smoothed out the folds of her dress.

Zivia pointedly ignored the narrowed look that Azriel was giving Mor, as if also doubting the words she said. When Mor sauntered over to a chair beside her, she noticed a small bruise-like mark on her neck that she tried to conceal with her hair when she noticed that she was staring. She gave her a not-so-subtle wink and Zivia snapped her attention back to Rhysand and did her best to school her face into obliviousness, more so when she felt the shadowsinger's burrowing gaze turn to her.

The meeting was fairly quick, going over some new information that Azriel was able to gather and also additional preparations that needed to be done for the upcoming treaty council involving all the high lords of Prythian in a few months' time.

Zivia was walking along the corridors of the estate after the meeting when she caught sight of the lush garden through the glass windows. An onslaught of fresh and sweet earthy scents greeted her upon stepping out of the veranda and she took a deep breath, drinking in the aroma that reminded her of her mother's own botanical garden atop their palace. She followed the cobblestone path that leads to the fountain in the middle of the garden, letting her hand graze along the hedges as she walked by. Almost every kind of blossoming plants were present – from hydrangeas to daisies to daffodils and peonies and tulips and roses and her all-time favourite, sunflowers. She was busy admiring the towering yellow-petalled flower that she overlooked someone who was crouched and digging the soil around the plant. The gardener spotted her as she approached and stopped to greet her.

"Hello."

It was the High Lady's sister.

"Uhm, hi."

An awkward reply wasn't what she was planning to give her but given how gorgeous she looked even in her drab gardening clothes, she instantly felt conscious about herself again. She was suddenly glad that she was able to take at least a shower before going to the meeting.

"You like flowers too?" Elain asked her as she dusted off the dirt from her gloved hands. Her palms didn't appear too sweaty when she removed them.

_Must be enchanted_, she thought. Like the one she would use whenever her mother would ask her for help in trimming a bougainvillea shrub, as it prevents getting her fingers torn by its spiky stems.

"My mother developed a particular inclination towards horticulture and I find myself enjoying it too. We do pottery together for some of her plants."

She took a step closer to the sunflower to stoke its petals.

"Isn't it amazing how they turn towards the sun, following it across the sky? Plants do have magic on their own." Elain's smile was expectedly devastating.

"Do you think they'll live when grown away from sunlight?" she mused as she stared at the flower tilted towards the ball of light now sinking slowly on the horizon.

"Where there is darkness, the light will always find its way."

Her head snapped to her, brows knitting together in confusion. She wasn't sure if she was still talking about the plant and there was something odd about the look Elain was giving her. But it didn't linger for long when she offered to walk with her to the fountain and talk more about gardening.


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER VIII**

The front gates of Athelwood loomed before her as Mor eased her horse to a slower pace.

She immediately left after their meeting in Velaris, saying something about needing to take care of some important things before leaving again for work when asked by Cassian why she was in such a rush. It wasn't entirely a lie.

She left her mare in the stables then proceeded to the back door of the estate. The smell of garlic bread and roasted chicken greeted her as she walked over to the kitchen.

"Are you cooking?" she gushed at the female who had her face in front of the oven. "Careful, you'll burn your nose."

The woman whipped her head to her and gave her a wide smile.

She felt bad for having to leave her again on her own – alone in this house. They've only been together for a few months after meeting each other during the height of the war with Hybern. She was the mortal girl who was rescued by Feyre and Azriel at the enemy's camp when they retrieved Elain. The two of them somehow bonded before the humans were sent back to their lands. She thought it was just one of her brief affairs but after days of finding herself longing for the woman, she went and asked her if she wanted to stay with her at the Faerie lands.

Her happiness was beyond measure when she said yes. Only to be thwarted by her having to go do the job Rhysand asked her to do. Not feeling quite ready yet to tell her friends about Briar, she decided to let her stay in her secret estate for the meantime.

"I know that look," said Briar as she placed the cooked chicken on the table. Setting the plates, she motioned for Mor to seat down. "I'm going to be fine here. I know you're doing your best to make this world a better place for us. I understand. I also want to have that peace, that freedom to live with each other in harmony." She reached over to grab her hand. "For you _and_ me."

Mor squeezed her hand back and tried to blink away the tears forming in her eyes.

_ Soon._

* * *

The sound of dried leaves and twigs crunching under their boots echoed through the empty forest as Zivia and Azriel made their way to the mortal side of the Continent.

After winnowing and flying through the journey, they decided to land in one of the dense forests lining the edge of where once the Wall stood and trek from there. Azriel said that even though the danger had somehow dwindled after the war, humans here are still wary and watchful and going through on foot would be their safest option. She suggested concealing both of them with her magic until they reach their destination, but the spymaster insisted they both needed to preserve their strength for any untoward emergencies. Besides, he said it would be extremely suspicious if the two of them just appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the city.

It took them half the day to reach the edge of the forest just before the clearing, and they settled in farthest the city border as the sun dipped in the horizon.

"We'll spend the night here," said Azriel as he surveyed the surroundings. "It will take us another day to reach the center of the town." He turned to her. "Think you could throw an illusion to make us invisible?"

"There isn't much light to manipulate at this hour. It won't be as effective during the day." She'll try her best though. She couldn't be that useless at the very beginning of this mission.

But the shadowsinger just inclined his head and said, "I figured as much".

He then stretched out his hand and swirls of shadows eddied around them like ink in water, concealing them from any prying eyes that were present or any that would find themselves lost on this part of the forest in the middle of the night.

Her brows drew together in slight embarrassment. "Why then ask if you knew…"

He just shrugged in reply. Ignoring him, she threw an air shield around to suppress whatever noise that could reveal their presence, and pulled out a tent she kept hidden in a pocket realm. Azriel was looking at her with a mild surprise on his face.

"I thought it'd be useful one day," she grinned. "Well, what do you know!"

Together, they set the tent up, stepping back to look at their work after they finished. The shadowsinger had his face drawn in a tight frown as he looked at their would-be shelter that is visibly too small for two people, especially with wings. Before he could voice out his concern, she took him by the hand and dragged him inside. His protest died on his lips as he took in what was before them.

Outside, the tent looked like it could barely contain the two of them, but inside, with its considerable space, it was fit to accommodate at most five people inside.

"How?" Azriel breathed as he looked at her.

It was then that she realized that she was still holding his hand, his scars rough on her palm. She quickly dropped it and made an awkward gesture of showing off the tent with her hands, suddenly feeling the need to do something with them.

"It was made by a faerie fabricator back in our island. He always had a knack for creating enchanted objects."

She went on to get more blankets from her magical storage place and laid it out on the ground before setting herself down.

"Make yourself feel cozy." She gestured at the blankets.

Azriel was eyeing her with an amused look as he stepped further into their camp. "I don't suppose you have anything else tucked away in this pocket realm of yours?"

"Ah!"

She held up a finger to him and proceeded to pull out loaves of bread, cheese and a large bottle of wine. "Saves us the effort of having to hunt for dinner."

For a moment, he just stood there staring blankly at her. A small sound escaped from him before he bursted out with full on laughter. She didn't know what to make of it so she just held on to the food and the wine, looking like an idiot. Azriel slumped down across from her and grabbed a slice of cheese, twirling it around his fingers.

"You're wonderfully weird, you know," he said then plopped the cheese into his mouth.

She ducked her head to hide the redness blooming on her cheeks. "I don't know if I should take that as a compliment." 

It took a lot more than she wanted for her to meet his gaze. How unnerving it was to sit so close to this male and though she didn't want to admit it, she kind of liked it.

_Mother above Zivia, get it together!_

She averted her eyes, mentally slapping herself for having such useless thoughts. She reached for the bread just as Azriel reached for one too. Their fingers collided and it was an unknown instinct that made her pull her hand back quickly.

"Sorry. Take it."

Her eyes snagged onto his scarred hands that were partially covered by his gauntlet and that blue crystal thing atop it. She recognized those marks the first time she saw them upon their first meeting at the House of Wind, but held back in asking about it for the mere fact that it was too personal to ask. And she wasn't going to snoop into other's personal lives because she knows all too well what that kind of scars were exactly.

She haven't realized she'd been staring when Azriel spoke, setting down the wine he was drinking and holding up one of his hands, palms away from her to give her a better view of the crystal.

"They're called Siphons. They help us concentrate our powers in battle."

She gave a slow nod of her head, like a child understanding some complicated thing for the very first time.

"But that's not what you were wondering about, were you?"

She tensed as she held his gaze for a moment, and then deadpanned, "Where can I get one?"

It wasn't what he was expecting her to say as he was taken aback by her question. She stretched out her legs in front of her, not breaking eye contact as she grinned at him. "I think it'll look good on me. What do you think?"

He squinted at her, obviously noticing the way she evaded his question. He knew what she really was looking at but she couldn't bring herself venturing into that topic. It was a too private matter for _both_ of them.

"You can't"

She feigned a disappointed look. "Why not?"

"It looks better on us Illyrians."

It was impossible to miss the smirk that flashed across his lips.

"That's not fair! You already look pretty enough even without it."

"So do you."

Her blush was instant but she ignored it. "So you think I'm pretty?"

"That's not what I said."

"I'm going to assume that's what you meant."

He shook his head even as the smile continued tugging on his lips as he gobbled down his bread and wine. It was an awkward turn of events but both of them didn't mind much of it – seemed to enjoy it even.

They finished the rest of their dinner before settling down on their own blankets to sleep.

They were awake before the sun had shown its first light and continued on their journey. When the trees finally gave way to roads with signs of human activity, Zivia threw the illusion around them. They were to pose as a pair of travelers going around the continent in search of good trades. From there, they will gather as much information as they could regarding the state of each kingdom before deciding which one would be the easiest to persuade to their cause.

It was an hour past noon when they arrived at the village. It was a busy day; people were meandering around the square, vendors scattered everywhere, some going so far as walking up to people to offer their goods. She did a mental check to see if their illusion is still intact, just to be sure.

They were busy looking around when a particular merchant snuck up on them.

"Greetings wayfarers." The old man's voice was thick with accent and he spoke with such raspness Zivia wondered if he had been shouting for customers the whole day. "May I bother you for a minute? I have goods that you might want."

He reached into his pouch, his wrinkled fingers fumbling with the knots, and pulled out something bulky. It was covered with sooth-stained cloth and by the shape and sound of it, she made a good guess of what he might be selling.

"Weapons," he said, parting the cloth to reveal stash of knives and daggers. "Made with ash woods."

Azriel was beside her in an instant, slightly blocking her from the vendor with his body.

"Sorry, we have no interest in weapons," he said a little too coldly.

The merchant blinked but extended his hands more to them. "You might need it, especially now _they_ are already among us!"

The collapse of the Wall undeniably made these people cautious. She didn't even know if the weapons were indeed made of real ash woods or just a sham to entice more buyers, but they weren't going to figure that out for themselves.

"We're…fine." She shook her head to the old man and turned to go on their way.

"I haven't seen you around here," the vendor blurted, making them stop. They looked back to see him eyeing them suspiciously.

"We're travelers," Azriel said before she could open her mouth. "From Scythia."

They waited. If the old man doubted them, this could all turn out bad, and she prepared herself just in case he decided to use those weapons on them, fake or not. Azriel seemed to think the same, bracing himself if they needed to make a run for it.

But the old man just gave them a crooked smile and inclined his head as he reached into his pouch again and handed them apples.

"A welcome gift," he said. "May you find our city welcoming enough for you." He sketched a bow before drifting off to find another probable customer.

After rounding the market place for about an hour, they were finally able to find an inn that was cheap enough and comfortable enough for them both. By night, they found themselves seated in a corner of the village tavern, people around drinking shots and dancing along the music created by a small band at the center of the room.

_Perfect._

In this kind of place, conversations flow freely and with it, information.

"That woman has been staring at you for a while now," she said as she took a sip from her glass.

Azriel turned to where she gestured and saw a lady from the bar staring back at them, twirling her hair in her fingers as she bit her lip.

"Go talk to her."

They both exchanged a knowing look before he rose from his seat and declared, "I'll get a refill."

She eyed the woman who was now greedily smiling at the shadowsinger, her cheeks were tinged bright red, clearly inebriated from alcohol. _Good._ Drunken people were most likely to tattle, especially drunk ladies who were looking for someone to flirt with.

A group of males strutted into the bar led by a tall muscular man with hair cut so short, he was almost bald. He looked around the room, ordering his friends to get drinks when he spotted her.

"What's a pretty lady doing alone, drinking by herself here?" he said in a gruff voice when he reached her table. "You look like you needed some company." Without invitation, he settled himself down on a seat beside her, draping an arm over her shoulders as he did.

"Somebody get us a drink here!" he shouted over his shoulder.

There was such authority in his voice that made Zivia think that he's more than just a regular patron of this tavern. She turned to see Azriel looking at them with an unreadable face before the woman grabbed him by his chin and leaned in for a kiss. She snapped her attention back at the male beside her, a glass already on his hand.

"You don't look familiar," he told her, downing his drink in one gulp. "Are you a new recruit?"

_Recruit?_

"Oh." Understanding dawned on her. "No. I'm not."

She shifted on her seat, angling herself to prevent his arm coming in contact with her hidden wings. Also, she was starting to feel uncomfortable around him and his smell was starting to become unbearable too.

Smiling at him, she said, "I'm just a wanderer having some great time in this city."

The man's grin turned wolfish as he inched closer and placed a hand on top of her knee. "I know a place where you can wander and have your _greatest _time in this city."

It took everything from her to restrain herself from crushing the man's lungs on the spot when he slid his hand up her thighs.

"Yeah?"

"I live not far from here." He continued moving closer to stroke her hair. "My father is out for his faerie hunt so he won't be home for tonight. We'll have the place all to ourselves."

She planted her hands in his chest, pushing him away slightly.

"Faeries?"

His brows rose at her question. "You must not know. There are talks of those creatures crossing over the border after the wall collapsed." He leaned in as if to speak something that must only be kept between the two of them. "My father and his men are en route to Liria to discuss about what to do with them."

She gulped as she pondered that information in her head. _Could he be talking about a council meeting?_

"You seem to be interested in faeries," he mumbled in her ear. "Come with me and I'll talk to you more about them in bed."

Then he suddenly slid his hand in between her legs.

Glasses shattered and furnitures were overturned as she shoved the man away so hard, he was thrown halfway across the room and fell flat onto the floor. She was so sure she'd kill him right then and there when Azriel put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her before she could reveal their identity to everyone on the tavern. Her anger simmered down even as the man stood up and faced the Illyrian.

"Fuck off man!" he spat into his face. "She's mine."

Azriel remained stoic as he pulled Zivia away from him. "She's nobody's."

The man's face turned livid and he flexed his muscles readying for combat. "Why don't we settle this in a fight, huh? Come on!" He motioned for Azriel but the shadowsinger remained still, not moving an inch from where he stood.

"Stop this," she cautioned as she stepped in between them.

"What? You choose this _wack_ over someone like me?" he sneered.

A dozen retort sprang into her mind but she held them back. "Careful, you're talking about my brother."

She felt both their surprise as the man slowly lowered his fists and looked at her, then to Azriel. Both of them wore the same expression.

Everyone's attention was towards them now, drawn by the scuffle.

"Let's go."

Azriel let her drag him away from the scene they've created but before they could leave, she let his illusion drop just for the man to see what was hidden behind that glamour. She took satisfaction in seeing him stumble back, eyes widening at what he saw. He rubbed his eyes as if it would clear away whatever hallucination he'd had and when he looked back at them, she slammed the door in his face and away they went into the night.

They left the village early morning the next day after piecing together the information they gathered. She also found out that the jackass from the tavern last night was a baron's son.

"Rumor is that the lords of some cities in the continent were to converge to talk about plans after the collapse of the wall."

Zivia glanced at the spymaster beside her. She wondered whether he got that information from the bar lady or from his agents around the continent, though he already told her that his network of spies were also lying low after the war. Either way, they got what they needed.

"Do you think the queens were involved in this?"

"That's what we're going to find out."

The territory of Liria would be weeks of trekking away from where they are so they decided to go to a place where large amounts of trades were exchanged and try to hitch a ride in one of the dealers' carriage. After deeming their surrounding safe enough, they flew through a mountain range that they needed to cross to arrive at the next village, with an illusion cast over them for precaution. As they reached the peak of the mountains, a strong rainstorm impeded their flight and they had to land down to look for temporary shelter.

Completely soaked and shivering, they were able to find a cave carved on the base of one of the stone mountains. They were both dripping wet from the rain and teeth chattering from the cold so Zivia threw a wall of air around the cave entrance to prevent any more wind and rain from entering and possibly freeze them to death. She shook off the water from her hair and wings before sending waves of air to dry their clothes.

It was starting to get dark outside but there was no sign of the storm from stopping any time soon. They're going to have to stay the night here.

The cold didn't budge despite the barrier and there wasn't enough dry wood inside for them to start a fire. She remembered the blankets she stashed inside her magical storage and pulled them out and made makeshift beds for both of them. When the darkness has deepened into their cave, she summoned a ball of light from her palms to illuminate and warm them.

"What do you think Mor is doing now?" she asked as she pulled out the apples that were given to them from her pouch then tossed one to Azriel. It wasn't much but they'll have to do for dinner.

"Probably getting drunk in one of the kingdoms' cellars," he said flatly, taking a bite of his fruit.

_Not this topic then._

Silence stretched between them as the wind continued howling outside their little reprieve. She glanced at the shadowsinger who was now partly nestled in his blankets, basking in the warmth of her light. He was in deep thought as he nibbled on the remains of the apple and she wondered whether he was thinking about Mor. She shuffled in her own covers and let the lights dim a little. The rain splattered in a steady beat and it was that sound that finally lulled her to sleep.

_In her dream, she was flying, high above the clouds. The setting sun warm against her cheeks – it was a beautiful feeling and she closed her eyes._

_ But the wind suddenly stopped blowing and then she was falling. She reached out a hand but there was nothing to hold on to._

_ She was slipping…slipping…and falling into a dark chasm below her._

She jerked awake, panting and drenched in sweat. Azriel was beside her instantly, holding her steady by the shoulders.

"Something's wrong," she gasped, trying to get her breaths even. She felt it. She looked at him as she wrapped her arms around her body and repeated her words to him. "Something's wrong."

"It's the apples," he said with a hint of rage in his voice. "They're laced with faebane."

Her hands trembled as she tried summoning her magic, but there was nothing. It was a complete void inside of her and no matter how much she tried, nothing responded to her calls. Azriel reached for her arm, willing her to look at him.

"Don't worry, it's only temporary." His voice was so soothing it almost made her want to bury her face in his chest and cry just to ease the hollowness she felt inside. She managed to give him a terse nod.

There was never a time when she was without her powers and it scared her to death of the possibility that one day it would happen to her.

_It's only temporary,_ she reminded herself.

She looked back at him and noticed how calmly he was handling this situation. _There are worse pains to have_. His scars made her remember that.

Finally calming herself with that thought, she pushed off the blankets and went to stand at the mouth of the cave. The rain had stopped and the trees and grass were glistening like diamonds under the morning sun.

"What do we do now?"

"We stay, until the effects wear out and we get our powers back. It would be too dangerous out there to continue our journey."

Huffing a sigh, she muttered, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She turned around, wringing her hands in front of her. "I shouldn't have taken those apples."

"It's not your fault," Azriel replied. "I noticed that old man was a little bit sketchy. I should've known better."

She frowned. It was not fair that he'd be taking this up as his fault.

"No. I shouldn't have offered them to you."

"I shouldn't have let you eat them."

"Stop it. This was clearly my fault! And you can't tell me otherwise."

Hoping to cement her point, she crossed her arms and gave him a look that dared him to contradict her.

"Fine," he said, throwing his hands up in defense. "It's both _our_ fault." A smile tugged at his lips as he started shaking his head. "I can't believe we're having this argument right now."

She took a deep breath and hoped he didn't notice. It was weird how he could get any more attractive than he already is with just a simple gesture like that.

"You should do that more often."

"Do what?" His brows slightly furrowed but he was still smiling.

"Smile. It suits you."

Color bloomed on his cheeks and he quickly turned to hide it.

_By the Cauldron, did she just made him blush?_

But apparently, it had the same effect on her as she felt heat rush through her body. She scratched her nose, feeling embarrassed and stupid.

_But it's true…_ an inner voice told her as she settled back into her blankets and waited out the day.

The sky was already turning purplish but there was still no sign of her powers coming back. Not even a speck of it. She was starting to panic, dreadful that it would be gone for good.

_It's only temporary…it's only temporary…_

She kept repeating those words in her head hoping to ease her building fear.

Azriel was gone too look for food. Needless to say, she started another petty argument about whose going. She insisted that she wasn't that hungry and that they should wait a little longer in hopes that maybe the effects of the faebane would wear out soon enough.

It was a well past the afternoon when her stomach decided to demonstrate a whale's mating call prompting Azriel to finally go despite their powers not returning yet.

She stepped out of the cave and looked far past the trees but found no sign of the shadowsinger. Her hunger has already subsided but she was getting restless. Just as she was about to go back, she noticed a tiny orb of light among the bushes. It danced around the air before wisping away into the woods. She looked back to see if Azriel have returned but when she didn't see him, she went and followed the creature of light.

She arrived at a meadow not far from their cave. It was dark now; the clouds in the sky giving way to the stars and moon, which glowed in a way that painted the grass silver. The orb of light was gone.

Steps sounded behind her and she turned to see the shadowsinger standing a few feet away.

"You almost scared me," she snapped at him.

"Did I now?" he said as he walked towards her. "I came back to find you missing. What are you doing here?"

"Nothing," she replied when he stopped an arm's length away. "I just saw something but then it was gone and –"

She gasped. Behind Azriel, the orb of light suddenly appeared – hundreds of them actually – among the pastures.

"Fire sprites," she breathed as she stepped closer to them.

A breeze of wind blew and she turned to see everything punctuated with thousands of glimmering lights – from the grass on their feet to the leaves up in the trees. They were everywhere, radiating such beautiful red and golden colors that made the forest look enchanted.

She looked back at Azriel. He had his hands open before him, an invitation for the creatures to come to him. A dozen had already gathered on his palms, their light gilding his face in a warm glow and his eyes glinted with puerile fascination.

She couldn't help smiling. "Aren't they beautiful?"

A rogue one twirled around his head before burrowing itself in his hair. Azriel grabbled through his head trying to catch the pesky creature and she stifled a laugh before marching towards him.

"Here, let me help."

As she was reaching her hand, the sprites suddenly scuffled away plunging them into darkness. There were sounds of rustling among the trees and bushes around them. Azriel grabbed her by the arm and pulled her before stopping short. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she noticed shadows among the branches – outlines of men among the shrubs.

They were surrounded.


	10. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER IX**

The clouds covering the moon parted, illuminating them as they stood back to back at the center of the clearing. Zivia tried summoning her powers but to no avail and she felt Azriel tense behind her, probably doing the same.

There were more than a dozen of them scattered around. She felt for the dagger strapped on her thighs. No illusions could hide them now. They could make a run for it, but who knew how many more of them were there, staying hidden among the shadows of the trees. And flying was totally out of their option as it would make them an easy target. They could end up tattered in arrows before they could even reach a safe distance.

So they did nothing.

They couldn't harm these people, not if they were going to vie for their trust. They have to get out of this situation in the most non-aggressive way possible.

"It's okay," she said to no one in particular. "We bring no ill intentions. We won't do anything to you."

Silence.

"We come in peace," she tried again, taking a single step forward.

An arrow bolted through from somewhere among the bushes, missing her by a few inches.

"Doesn't seem like they can be reasoned with," muttered Azriel as he unsheathed his weapon as well.

At the same time, they leaped from where they were standing and barreled towards the trees. Arrows rained down on them but they were quick. Their powers may be gone but the heightened abilities of being a faerie were still there. As her eyes adjusted, she spotted a man hidden among the tree trunks to her right. She hurtled her dagger at him before he could nock another arrow. Her knife hit him on his chest, hard enough that he stumbled back but not enough to kill him. She went to retrieve her dagger then struck him with its hilt to knock him out.

A pain tore through her left calf and she turned to see the brute bald man from the tavern, weapons on his hands.

"I knew I wasn't just seeing things," he hissed as he threw another knife at her. She caught it easily with her hands.

"What? Still bitter about being rejected?"

"I'm going to _kill_ you!"

The man lunged at her with all his might, but it was apparent that he wasn't used to fighting. He made so many unnecessary movements and was unsteady on his feet that it took her less than a minute to take him down.

Another group of men appeared before she could restrain him. One of them swung his sword at her and she leaped backwards, lifting her dagger just in time to deflect another attack from behind. Another one joined then another until there were ten of them in the fight. They circled her with their weapons drawn and pointed at her.

"My, my. What's a female to do when surrounded by all these men?" she said with a serious expression on her face.

"_Monster!_" shouted one of them and they all fell upon her.

She took every blow defensively and attacked with caution so as not to fatally injure any of them. It took longer than she expected to take them all down. Her skill was more effective when used in full force and holding back made her slower.

"You're all murderers."

The bald man was slumped against a tree, cowering in fear. He was looking at her with undiluted hatred in his eyes. "Monsters! I hope they killed your brother!"

_Brother?_

It took her a few seconds to process what he said. _Shit._

They were separated at some point but she didn't notice as she was busy fighting off these men that she totally forgot about Azriel. She frantically looked around for any sign of him when a scream cut through the air, she hastened to where the sound came from and found about a hundred men surrounding a visibly tired Azriel, who was holding a man by the throat. A dozen bodies lay unmoving at his feet.

She cursed herself again. These people laid out a trap and they fell right into it. It was probably the information they got from the baron's son that led them to believe that he was the only faerie between the two of them. She wasn't sure what led them to that conclusion but to hell with that now. As she fought with their initial force, Azriel was lured away into a larger group of men that were waiting to ambush him. Nobody made it to inform them of the other fae in their midst.

She hurtled her daggers to the man closest to the shadowsinger. His head whipped to her a fraction earlier than those surrounding him and as their attention turned to her, he took the opportunity to take down some of them. Everything erupted to chaos as they all scrambled to decide who is going to attack who. During an exchange of blows with a lanky guy holding a spear, she felt a faint dab of her powers returning. She shoved her opponent out of the way and reached out her hand, taking hold of the air around them – then pulled. The men collapsed to the ground as one, going utterly limp. The entirety of her magic hasn't returned yet and she buckled by the force of that maneuver.

"Zivia!" blurted Azriel and ran towards her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She gulped. "Just a little worn out."

He helped her onto her feet and as they stood next to each other, she realized that he was also panting.

"They aren't dead, are they?" He turned towards the swarm of bodies covering the forest floor.

"No, just passed out. I pulled the air from their lungs. They'll be down for the rest of the night." A man at her feet grunted and she kicked him hard in the stomach. "At least most of them will. How are you?"

"Fine. A few scratches here and there." His black wings rustled a bit when he sheathed his weapon back onto his back. "I actually find it harder to fight when you have no intention to kill."

"Uh-uh," she agreed, brushing off the twigs that were caught in her hair when she ran through the woods looking for him. "We should get out of here."

They went back to the cave to tend to their wounds and gather their remaining supplies before continuing on with their journey. By the time they left the cave, the effects of the faebane has entirely worn out and they traveled the rest of the way concealed in Azriel's shadows. At the crack of dawn, Zivia made sure to make the necessary changes in their appearance as she cast their illusion, just in case those men came looking for them again and they risk being recognized. Thankfully, they were able to reach the city of trades without any problem. Furthermore, they found a dealer who was willing to give them a ride into his carriage that will take them to Liria.

"Let me get this right," said Azriel when the merchant was gone to pack more supplies and they were left tending to his carriage. "I am to act as if you're _my_ daughter?"

It was so hard not to laugh at his reaction. The first time he found out was when they were asking around the dealers and she introduced him as her father. His head whipped to her and looked as if saying, _what did you just say?_

"Word's already gotten out that a pair of fae siblings were on a rampage around the Continent after somebody found the bodies on the mountain pass last night."

"We could have passed as cousins."

"No. can. Do." She muttered in time as she tightened the reins on the horses. "They'll know that we're just the same age – or at least close to each other's age. They're going to suspect nonetheless."

"Humans aren't that gullible."

"Clearly you haven't been with them for a long time. They can be too smart for their own good."

"Alright, but why am I the father?"

She craned her neck to look at him over the carriage. "You should've told me that. I would have loved to dote on you as my son."

He made a subtle gesture that can normally be considered an eye roll and continued strapping the loads into the cart. After finishing with the horses, she rounded the wagon to help him.

"Not to worry, you still look good as an old man." she teased as they both lifted a particularly heavy box.

"First, I was your brother, now I am your father. So what's it going to be next huh?"

"Well who knows, I might become your wife ne – "

_Good Mother above._

His brows shot up as he turned to her.

"Of course I was just kidding, hah!" She feigned nonchalance but the words came out of her mouth a little shaky and rushed. Avoiding his stare, she pointed towards the storehouses. "I'm going to look if he's gonna need some help." Then darted to where the merchant has gone off to, all the while cursing at herself.

An hour before noon, they were finally able to pack all the items and hit the road. It was a tight fit for both of them inside the carriage but they were able to manage. Thankfully, there weren't many goods around to make it uncomfortable enough to not sit. When they both settled, Azriel gave her a slice of bread and some bananas. She hesitantly took them from him, not because she doesn't want them but because she completely forgot about her hunger.

"Don't worry," said Azriel, noticing her hesitance. "I made sure they're safe."

She met his gaze and gave a sly smile before taking a bite off the bread.

Their journey was punctuated by occasional stops at some towns to either deliver supplies or to get something to eat. Azriel took it upon himself to test the foods they were getting before deeming it safe to eat.

"It's better this way," he reasoned when she insisted that he didn't have to do it and that they could take turns in testing the foods. "You're holding our illusion intact. It would be trouble if we lose that. Besides, concealing us both in shadows definitely wouldn't work."

"What if somebody attacked us?"

"Then I'd feel sorry for them."

She eyed him. "I am not as strong as you, you know."

"No." he just shrugged. "I think you're stronger."

She couldn't tell whether he was complimenting or mocking her, but she struggled for a response and her blushing was apparent nonetheless. "I think we should have a match when this is all over."

He just inclined his head at her before walking back to the carriage.

* * *

It took them five days to reach the border of Liria. They were on their way to the capital when the carriage halted so suddenly they fell upon each other.

"What the – " Zivia braced her hands on either side of him to steady herself, accidentally pressing on his wings. He let out a small gasp and went still at the contact, instinctively grabbing her arms and gently helped her up before pushing himself back into a sitting position.

"Sorry," she apologized as she tried to peek outside. "Why did we stop?"

They heard shuffling outside and a gruff voice flowed through the wagon. "…_request that all carriages stop at this point…"_

The flap of the tent was suddenly opened and two men who appeared to be wearing guard uniforms greeted them they stared at each other for a moment before she lifted her hand and gave an awkward wave. "Hello."

One of them furrowed his brows in confusion before gesturing to both of them. "_Get out_." They obeyed the order and carefully stepped out, mindful of each movement so as not to accidentally touch them with their wings, albeit concealed. Standing side by side, the two guards eyed them up and down as if trying to see through their illusion.

"Ah yes, they're travelling with me." The merchant was pointing towards them from where he was being questioned by another sentry.

"We joined a ride with him to visit a relative here," Zivia added. She looked around and noticed that it was not just them but a few other travelers as well were stopped. Reaching a hand to her chest, she looked at one of the guards with all the wariness she could muster. "Is there something going on? Are – are the rumors true? _They_ are really here among us?"

The man just clicked his tongue and gave her an annoyed look. The other mumbled something under his breath, low enough that his companion didn't quite catch it but just enough for her fae hearing to know that it was a rather lovely swear word.

The man with the merchant, who is clearly higher-ranked than the other two, stepped forward and declared "No need to worry. This is just a part of temporarily increased security protocols between borders. Orders were given to inspect all inbound trade-carrying carriages to the capital."

She and Azriel exchanged a look.

"I understand but my goods, I have to deliver them," the merchant protested.

"As soon as we finish checking, you'll be good to go." He gestured to his subordinates and one of them went to examine the contents of the cart. He then turned towards them. "As for the two of you, you were to visit a relative you say?"

"Yes." They both said at the same time.

"It's my aunt," Zivia quickly added, hoping to cover their blunder. "She is my father's cousin."

The man turned to Azriel. "And your cousin lives here?"

"Yes."

Zivia resisted the urge to jab him on his side for giving such a deadpan answer.

"And you're from where?"

"Scythia?"

The words were out of her mouth before she even realized her mistake. She looked at the shadowsinger but he remained expressionless and focused on the man before him.

"Scythia? That's on the western side of Liria. Shouldn't you be coming from the other side of the city?"

_Damn it._

"We went to visit another relative." Azriel countered.

There was a long pause. They were becoming more suspicious with their every answer and it appears that they were not letting them go that easily. Behind the officer, she noticed that the other guard has finished inspecting the goods. She has to act quickly.

"It seems that you have relatives across the continent huh?" There's a noticeable edge in the sentry's voice as he took a step closer to Azriel and she felt the Illyrian shift slightly, almost as if challenging the man, "We do."

At the corner of her vision, she saw the guard behind them slowly reach for his belt.

"Oh I remember you!" the merchant's squeaky voice tore through the building tension and they all looked at him. "You once rode with me to this city when I was doing trades with Scythia before. Yes yes, you were that same girl back then."

The guard stared at him for a moment before looking back at Zivia, contemplating whether to believe the man or not.

"I think it was three or four years ago? My you've grown!"

She gave a wide-toothed smile to the merchant just as the inspecting guard went over to them and gave an approving nod to his superior. The officer took one last look at them, his gaze lingering on Azriel, before finally giving them the signal to go. As soon as the three men were gone to check on the others, she felt him relax. They thanked the merchant and bid him farewell before going on their way.

"He will be a bit dazed for some time, but he'll be fine I guess," Zivia murmured as she looked back at the carriage which was now disappearing into the distance. She let out a long sigh before adding, "I'm not used to glamouring people, but I just had to do it."

"Smart move I'd say."

"Well, I didn't have to resort to it if not for you."

The shadowsinger's face remained placid but she felt that very slight change in the air around him. He started walking and she followed behind.

"I'm at fault here too but your illusion is becoming a bit questionable. You're my father, for Cauldron's sake. You should act more like how an aged human would normally be." Finally catching up to him, she did her best imitation of his voice and accent, "'_We went to visit another relative'_. You sounded like you were threatening him."

"I don't speak like that."

"_Yes you do."_ Again mimicking him. "You even have this habit of narrowing your eyes slightly whenever you're trying to make a point to someone."

He stopped walking and looked at her, clearly irked by her subtle teasing.

"Ah. There it is." She just shrugged back and continued on backwards, facing him as she walked. "What I'm saying is maybe you should loosen up a bit, you know. Act more like an old man – "

"I _am_ old."

"An old human."

A group of guards passed by, marching towards the south western path were a considerable amount of people were headed to. Zivia looked at him and grinned.

"I have a good guess that's where the meeting is going to take place."


	11. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

Feyre, Cassian and Rhysand were having a conversation in one of the estate's study when a loud crash followed by Elain's high-pitched scream sent them running to the garden. They stopped short at the sight that greeted them.

"What the - ?"

Azriel and Zivia were sprawled among the shrubs lining the fountain, both grunting in pain.

"What happened?" gasped Feyre as she rushed beside Zivia to help her up.

Azriel was quick in getting back on his feet but the shock from their fall made him lose his balance and slip right into the fountain basin, sending splashes of water into Cassian's face, who was extending a hand to him.

"Woah, easy brother," teased Cassian as he wiped his face with his other arm. "Are you drunk?"

The shadowsinger levelled him a look. "We winnowed _straight_ from the Continent!"

Winnowing at great distances messes your orientation and muddles up one's senses especially if done in rapid successions and given the state of the two of them arrived, they were definitely in a rush.

"Let's get you inside," Feyre said, bracing a hand around the Seraphim's shoulder.

They settled in the parlour and she ordered Nuala and Cerridwen to get some towels.

"I'll get some tea," volunteered Elain.

"Okay, so what happened?" asked Rhysand as her sister disappeared into the hallway.

"Our cover was blown," muttered Zivia while she plucked leaves that were stuck in between the feathers of her wings.

"We were found out sneaking to be exact," amended Azriel.

Elain came back with a steaming pot of tea and set it down on the table at the center of the room. She went to Zivia and helped her in cleaning the dirt stuck on her face and wings.

"I'm not entirely to be blamed," Zivia grumbled. "How could I possibly concentrate with you squirming between my legs?"

Rhysand spewed out his drink across the room, Feyre almost dropping the pot and Cassian tried to cough up the liquid that went the other way down his throat as he threw an incredulous look at a wide-eyed Azriel.

"It's not – " He snapped his head to the Seraphim, who was now starting to look as though she would rather be somewhere else.

Cassian barked a laugh, tapping the shadowsinger on his shoulders. "I've never seen you so flustered Az, it's actually refreshing!"

Feyre had never seen the Illyrian look that uncomfortable before and it was something of Zivia to elicit such emotion from him. She suppressed a smile at whatever thought that came into her head at that.

The High Lord cleared his throat. "Uh, any reports then?"

Zivia launched into the story of how they utterly failed in the very simple task of spying without being seen, a portion of which involves having both of them sneakily peek through the mansion's window in hopes of catching whatever they could as the meeting progresses. They were not allowed inside even in the guise of two guards nor two servants nor any other particular individuals for that matter, the meeting was strictly for the lords only – no other else. It ended with Zivia recalling how they made for a quick escape after unceremoniously falling from Azriel's shoulders while trying to reach a better view but instead knocking her head in the glass window hard enough to alert everyone inside of their presence.

"The mortal queens are finally making their move huh," said Rhys after a while, casting a meaningful glance at Feyre.

"But we don't know what they're planning yet," added Cassian.

A pause.

Rhysand thoughtfully tapped his fingers on his cup before downing its contents and said, "We ought to at least be prepared." He put the cup on the table and stood. "For the meantime, we hold back on our negotiations on the Continent." Both Zivia and Azriel gave a subtle gesture of agreement. "I'll send word to Mor." He then proceeded towards the door.

"You can take a rest here if you want," offered Feyre as she too headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Zivia, already finished with removing all the debris from her wings.

"We're having a meeting with the … uh … night court citizens"

The High Lord nodded at her before disappearing out the door followed by Cassian and the High Lady. Azriel lingered for a second, debating whether to stay or join them. He gave a quick glance at Zivia then to Elain, who was standing awkwardly in the corner holding the teapot in her hands. He decided to go with the latter.

* * *

"_Was this a bad idea?"_

Zivia have asked herself that question for the fifth time since deciding to follow Azriel and the others. There was something amiss in her gut feeling but she couldn't quite place what it was, not that going after them would surely answer that question. A pulsing wave of the High Lord's power brought her back to reality. It was coming from deep within the mountains. Veering sharply downwards, she made a quick work of concealing her presence lest the spymaster discovers her sticking her nose somewhere she clearly shouldn't be. As she neared towards the base, she noticed huge stone gates carved into the mountain itself guarded by two impassive looking guards.

_So this is it, _she thought.

Her parents have told her all about the Night Court as stories ever since she was a child and she could still clearly remember mentions of the _City under the mountain_. It was her first time seeing it but she knows what to expect.

The two sentinels know better than to think that what they felt was way more than just still silence and a gust of wind. Air drafts rarely reach this part of the mountain, but another surge of power from the inside made their suspicions inconsequential. Zivia carefully made her way past them and deeper into where the origin of the power felt.

The place was so silent she could hear her own breaths within her shield. A little further into the mountain, sounds became much more audible and distinguishable. She could hear unfamiliar voices arguing as if in protest, some kind of music playing somewhere overlapping with their shouts.

"…._it's possible….another war…..lost many lives too…"_

The High Lord's voice boomed shook the ground. "_SILENCE_!"

The others were keeping their silence but anyone could point out their extreme presence even from a distance. This wasn't the same people she talked to a few hours ago. Their powers were fully unhampered as if they were gauging for a war.

She was inching closer to have a look of what was happening when a movement in the corner of her eyes caught her attention. Something just walked past the avenue opposite where she was standing. Her curiosity told her to follow it, so against her better judgment, she did.

The pathway was void of anyone else but her and that someone, leading her away from the others and deeper into the heart of the mountain. There was such stillness in the air the she could tell she's following a child by the sound of its footsteps. They were walking around a bend when the child abruptly stopped and turned on his heels. Zivia barely knocked into him and had just enough time to back away but not before tripping on her own feet and landing flat on her behind.

"Ow"

A sharp gasp as her concealment vanished and the child can finally see her. Barely three feet tall, he was staring at her with too-round eyes that were of bottomless black, two hairy antennae on his forehead stood in shock. The mothy wings on his back tucked in tight and trembled in time with his jaw.

"Hello. I uhm, I – _please don't scream!_"

The child has his mouth open in an unfinished cry for help. Though he appears to be visibly scared, he remained rooted on his spot possibly due to shock. Tears were already pooling on his eyes and his pale gray skin turned more ashen. Zivia pulled herself up, careful not to make any movements that could further scare the little fae.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." She reached out for him slowly but he flinched away and she had to withdraw her hand. "It's okay, don't be scared."

The child has found his voice and was able to string out words in between his silent sobs.

_"Wh – h – huwaryu?"_

It took her a few seconds to figure out what he said.

She crouched down so that she is in level with him. "I'm Zivia, and I'm not here to hurt you. We can be friends." She tried her best to show her good intentions with a smile. "What's your name?"

"R-Rem"

Thankfully, he was no longer trembling and his wings now droop carelessly behind him. He is studying her with large glassy eyes and pointed to her wings.

"Oh yes. They've become dirty now, haven't they?"

Rem shook his head. She looked at him in question when he opened his own wings and hovered a few inches above the ground then again pointed at her.

"Wings? yes. They're wings, I use them to fly too."

"Bird?"

"No. I mean a little like that but of course different."

The child surely had a point but being compared to a bird doesn't sit so well with her. She gave him a somewhat forced smile nonetheless.

He blinked at her, non-existent brows furrowing in thought. "Chickens?"

"Definitely not! I'm a Seraphim," she snapped. "Very much similar to Peregryns and – wait…"

The boy's face crumpled in much more confusion at the mention of the two words.

"You – you haven't heard of us?"

A slow shake of his head.

"Well," she angled her head in thought. "Has no one ever told you about us?"

Another shake.

"Don't you ever go outside this mountain?"

"Mother told me never to go out."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

He sounded just as confused as she is. Being locked inside this place and not being able to go outside, she felt pity for the little boy especially for someone given with the gift of flight. Their kind was supposed to be free to roam the skies, whenever they want for as long as they want.

"Can't you ask Lord Rhysand for permission?"

Worry flashed across Rem's face at the mention of the High Lord's name. He frantically looked around as if someone might be spying on them.

"It's alright. Nobody's around."

He looked at her, mild fear still visible on his face. There was obviously something that is keeping him from answering or he's too uncomfortable talking about it that she felt the need to change the topic.

"So where are you headed to?"

Rem perked up, suddenly remembering that he was here for a reason and that he actually has some place to go. In response, he scampered off giving Zivia a gesture to follow. He led her into more darkened alleys and past stone archways. She could hear the faint sound of running water coming from where they were apparently headed and it was getting much louder with each passing step. After squeezing through one particularly tight opening, Zivia found herself standing in a cliff within the mountain and sure enough, a waterfall gushes across from them spouting dark blue water that cascades down into the deep chasm below. There was an eerie feel to it but she couldn't deny that this place is quite beautiful.

"It's scary back there," said Rem, voice barely a whisper.

He was sitting on the far edge of the precipice, arms reaching out trying to catch some of the mist from the falls. She remembered the pulsing anger of Rhysand's power.

"Is your mother back there?"

His hands froze mid-air. "No. she is…not there." He pulled his hands back and wrung his fingers together in hesitation. "She went with the others to the war. She didn't come back."

Tears were threatening to gather on his eyes again and she inched closer to touch him. This time, he let her.

Zivia wasn't sure what to say to a young child who just lost his mother so she did what she does best and hoped it will help soothe the pain even just a little. With a flick of her finger, a butterfly the size of her palm appeared fluttering before them. Rem's building sorrow turned into juvenile fascination as he watched it float around him and mischievously landed on his nose.

"Where I'm from, there's a belief that when these creatures appear, it means that a lost loved one is making their presence felt."

He looked at her in surprise and gently scooped the butterfly into his tiny hands and bringing it close to his heart as if to embrace it. It broke her a little to know that even though it may look very real to this child, she couldn't make it any more so to let him feel it.

The butterfly floated above Rem's head, circling him and urging him to play. He was merrily chasing it around when Zivia felt his arrival and his close presence even before he showed himself.

Rem stopped short at the sight of Azriel and it was now true terror showing on his face. He stumbled and fell on his back, rapidly gasping as if completely out of breath. Zivia quickly rushed to his side.

"What are you doing here?" Azriel's voice is sharp and cold.

She turned around and faced him, placing a protective hand over Rem and looked at the spymaster appallingly. He was in his full suit armour, seven gleaming siphons on display and shadows were curling around his feet. Though he appeared slightly surprised at her presence, he was quick to mask it away and instead turned his attention to the young fae.

Rem squeaked and hid behind Zivia, squeezing himself in between her wings. At that, the Illyrian dropped the oozing viciousness around him and opted for a more toned-down ruthless demeanor, but still one that would make anyone take precautions.

Nevertheless, Zivia knew better. "Don't worry, he won't hurt you."

She threw him an accusatory glance before helping Rem onto his feet. The poor child is still shaking and he clutched her arm so hard his nails dug deep in her skin that it would surely leave prominent marks. Despite her reassurance, she could feel his doubt as much as she could feel his grip on her.

Azriel took a deep breath behind them and started walking away. She watched him disappear into the darkness, leaving nothing more than smokes of shadows in his wake.

"Let's go." She took Rem's hand in hers and squeezed it gently. "Don't be scared, I'm with you. Okay?"

He managed to give him a wobbly nod and they followed the shadowsinger towards the others, hand in hand.

They stopped infront of a large carved door which appears to be a side entrance to the throne hall. Azriel had already reverted back to his lethal bearing before walking through. As soon as the door opened, a scream cut through the air that sent chilling echoes bouncing off the cavernous ceiling of the room. The shadowsinger was unbothered and kept walking. When they were close enough, everyone's attention fell to her, watching her every step towards the dais where Cassian stood as well as Feyre and Rhysand, who were sitting on their own thrones in front of the crowd, all looking utterly surprised.

_"Father!"_

Rem broke free of her, shouting and ran directly towards a man lying down at the High Lady's feet. He was clutching his head and is in visible pain, traces of vomit staining his shirt and the floor around him.

The intent look of every person in the room didn't concern her as much as seeing them did. She did hear the dark stories of the _real_ Night Court but nothing of her expectations come anything close to this.

She leaned closer to Azriel, lowering her voice to a point where only he could hear, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on Rem and his father.

"Care to explain what in the Cauldron's sake is happening in here?"

* * *

Back at the House of Wind, Zivia slumped down on a settee situated at the corner of a veranda overlooking the city of Velaris. Rhysand had just left after explaining to her everything about the Hewn City. It answered some of her questions, though it didn't satisfy her curiosity as to a lot of _why's_ about that situation.

"Don't look at me like that," she muttered to Azriel, who was lingering near the rail ready to take flight. "I already apologized and I didn't even mean to interrupt your – well, whatever you guys were doing down there."

He gave her a look as if to say it wasn't what he was referring to. Huffing, she stood and walked towards the railing too, stopping close beside him, the tips of their wings almost touching.

"I won't go back there," she assented. "At least without permission."

The shadowsinger didn't say anything. They both stood there in silence, watching dark clouds bear down all around the city, a shifting sea of rust-colored sand.

"I just couldn't quite understand," Zivia said after some time. "It's just that . . . " She looked sideways at him. "Aren't they a citizen of this court too?"

A bobbing of his throat was the only reply she got. He didn't even look at her and instead continued looking faraway, his face of perfect solemnity.

"The Hewn City is a very brutal place full of wicked people that would give no second thought on doing all the worst things imaginable."

"There are children down there, Azriel."

The anger exuding out of him faltered. He tore his gaze away from the city and looked down at his scarred hands.

"Rhysand has his reasons."

"Don't you think that the High Lord, of all people, should know that goodness can come even in a place as dark as that?"

He finally faced her, eyes gleaming in the setting sun. His thoughts seem to be at war inside his head, skeptical as to what he should feel and he looked away.

"Why do you sympathize with people you barely know?"

Zivia thought for a while, staring at the shadowsinger's profile before looking back at the distant landscape.

"Hmm." She opened her palm and out bloomed a beautiful butterfly atop it. "Maybe because it's what I'm good at."

She extended her hand over the ledge and turned it over and together, they watched the creature fly deep down into the ravines below. As she looked at it disappearing beyond the darkened nooks of stone walls and cliffs, she remembered the words Elain said to her in the garden.

_When there is darkness, light will always find its way_


	12. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER XI**

"What is it?" asked Zivia, voice bordering on annoyance. She was out in the gardens with her wings spread out wide under the morning sun. At first, she was just alone sunning her wings when the Illyrian general joined her.

The High Lady has invited her for a casual lunch at the estate saying that Mor will be joining them. The night court's third-in-command arrived last night but insisted on meeting them the following morning.

She was deep in thought when she noticed Cassian looking, quickly averting his gaze when their eyes met and folding his arms over his chest whistling casually as if nothing happened. The gesture irked her but she refused to acknowledge the awkwardness and instead ignored him. Though she felt him staring again the moment she turned her attention away. She shifted, better positioning her wings against the sunlight when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him again, bending a little over backwards squinting at her wings. That was when she finally confronted him.

"Ah," answered Cassian, tucking his wings in earnest and rounded on her, "I was looking at your wings."

Her wings folded reflexively and she backed away from him.

"Oh come on, don't look at me like that." He said, "I was just trying to compare mine."

"_What?"_ Zivia wasn't sure she heard him right.

Cassian started to answer when Feyre and Rhysand appeared.

"Are you harassing Zivia?" asked the High Lady while Rhysand's brows rose in accusation.

"Of course not." The general dismissed, gesturing at her. "I was wondering about Seraphim wings. _You know, _who have bigger wingspans." He wiggled his brows at them as if talking about an inner joke only they were privy about.

"So you _are_ harassing her." Rhysand declared, strolling towards them.

Zivia took a quick glance at both the Illyrians' wings before replying, "Ours, definitely." She gave them a look that says she isn't as clueless about the subject matter as they thought.

Cassian's brows practically rose to his hairline at her statement. "Pff, of course they don't."

"Drop it, Cas." Rhysand warned, even though he looked just as doubtful albeit mildly interested.

The Illyrian general gestured at her. "Come on. Only one way to find out."

"I don't even think it's fair to measure up against _her_ Cassian," pointed out Feyre as he took a stance in front of them and stretched out his wings, completely ignoring them both.

"You don't have to entertain the whims of this bull-headed idiot, Zivia," Rhysand told her before turning to Cassian. "Now tuck those wings before Azriel comes and sees you."

"What's he gonna do?" challenged Cassian, standing his ground.

"He might mention it to Mor. And trust me brother, you don't want Mor hearing anything about this."

There was a slight twitch in Cassian's jaw.

"You really are an entertainment." Zivia stepped behind Cassian and unfolded her wings, carefully aligning it against his. "Well then."

Feyre took it upon herself to measure the two of them, grinning like a fool at the result. He looked at Rhysand and gave him a shrug.

The High Lord slowly shook his head. "Lost cause, brother."

Cassian looked at Feyre as if he couldn't believe it and he _refused _to believe it because then he said, "Well that's only because of your feathers. Pluck them off and we'll see."

"How about I pluck all of your hairs down there?" countered Zivia though she herself couldn't hide the amusement in her voice. Cassian pursed his lips and looked at her as if to say '_point taken'._ "Besides, what's all this fuss about wingspans anyway? Shouldn't you be more bothered learning better techniques than just sticking it _in_ and leaving everything to size? It's like arguing which one has the bigger and longer sword when neither of you even knows how to properly wield one."

The High Lady chuckled as an embarrassed look passed between the two Illyrians. "She's a got a point you know."

"How did we even come to this?" Zivia was shaking her head. "I was just peacefully sunning my wings here. I swear you lots have got your mind wrapped up on other useless silly things."

Cassian sheepishly grinned at her while the High Lord muttered an apology on his general's behalf.

_They're a handful, _Azriel once told her during their time at the Continent when she asked about the Inner Circle, giving a particularly deep sigh when it came to his two Illyrian brothers.

She's actually starting to understand his sentiments.

Just then, as if on cue, the shadowsinger appeared from the doorway to the veranda, walked over to them and handed the High Lord a rolled parchment.

Zivia's eyes snagged on to his tucked wings, carefully examining it. "Ahh," she drawled, turning her head to Cassian. "I see where the insecurity is coming from."

Cassian stared at her, mouth slightly agape; he looked unamused and clearly a bit insulted. Feyre burst out laughing across from her and Azriel looked at them, utterly oblivious about what is going on.

* * *

Mor was in a rather bad mood when she arrived for luncheon. She outright ignored everyone, talking only when necessary. It was eerily silent over the dining table; the clanks of knife against plates were the only sound.

The High Lord cleared his throat, speaking over them "Starfall is in three days. I think we should take this as an opportunity to rest before going back to the matter of the treaty." He took a pull from his wine goblet. "Preparations have already started in the city."

It's the first time Zivia heard the term 'starfall' and she wasn't sure what that meant. The High Lady's sister appeared just as confused across from her. "What's _starfall?_"

"It'll be both your first time, isn't it? It would be much better as a surprise" Feyre clapped her hands, eyes full of excitement. "I can't wait for you to see it!"

_ "_Will Nesta be coming?" Elain's meek voice sounded like a boom of thunder and silence fell like a blanket over them. Cassian went as rigid as a prison's blank stone wall, holding on to his knife as if he was about to yield it.

"Well…uh" The High Lady was at lost for words. "I haven't talked to her about that." Elain sagged a bit in her chair, making her look more fragile. "Yet." Feyre quickly amended. She looked over at Rhysand, a silent conversation passing between them before turning back to her sister. "I'll see if I can give her a visit tomorrow." Elain just nodded and turned her attention back to her food.

* * *

Zivia found Mor by the river near the estate after lunch. She approached her slowly, not wanting to disrupt her from any thoughts she was having. The others have noticed the abrupt change in her but decided not to confront her for it and told Zivia that it wasn't that big of a deal.

"Morrigan has her moods," the High lord had told her. "You need not worry."

Though a frown seems to be his default everyday look, Azriel appeared genuinely worried. She couldn't tell whether to feel concerned about it, especially coming from Azriel, or it was just one of those times that he over-worries about Mor.

A shift of movement caught her eyes breaking her from her trance. Mor has noticed her presence.

"I'm sorry," she strolled closer to her. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything. I just wanted to check on you."

Mor smiled at her. "It's alright. I'm fine."

_Lie._

Zivia walked to her side and stood at the edge of the river, both their reflections blinking at them from the flowing crystalline water. "Azriel's worried about you."

"He always is."

Zivia didn't know where to go from there. She wasn't even sure Mor wanted to have this conversation in the first place. "If you say so. I'll go on then."

Just as she was about to leave, decidedly letting Mor tend to her own emotions, a hand grabbed her by the elbow.

"Wait. Come with me."

At first, Zivia thought they were going to the House of Wind but they winnowed in front of a house she was unfamiliar with. She was sure they weren't within the immediate vicinity of Velaris or the night Court for that matter.

The wind blew with the last of the winter chill, carrying with it the scent of hills and forest ready to welcome spring into its embrace. She tucked her wings closer around her and suppressed a little shudder. Horses whinnied in the distance as they walked towards the entrance.

"Is this another one of the High lord's extravagant houses?" she asked bemused. "How many houses does he have?"

Mor paused by the doorway. "No, this estate actually belongs to me." She gave her a rather guilty smile before opening the door and beckoned for her to come inside. "I bought it some centuries ago for the quiet, to be alone with myself once in a while."

The interior of the house was simple yet beautiful. Pale velvet couches surrounds a fireplace situated on the far corner of the receiving room, a small table laden with fresh flowers sitting in the center. Wine colored gossamer curtains were peeled back to allow the most light to pour in from the gilded windows. The decorations were fairly reminiscent of the Night Court itself with pieces of Mor's personal taste here and there.

Mor walked over and stooped to pick up a stray blanket forgotten on the floor. "I never told anyone else about this. Even Rhys doesn't know of this place. This was my escape whenever I wanted to get away from them." She watched as she tossed the blanket away, her gaze briefly staying on the couch as the wool landed in a heap over one of the pillows. "It gets suffocating sometimes."

Zivia followed her to the back of the house and into the kitchen.

"It's been a bit difficult." Mor told her a she busied herself filling the teapot. "My time at the Continent wasn't as smooth as I imagined it to be."

Zivia pulled one of the kitchen chairs and situated herself a bit awkwardly due to her wings not fitting on the chair. "Did something bad happen?" She moved about, trying to find a comfortable position.

"Not exactly. The continental High Lords were a bit difficult I admit, but other than that there wasn't much. It'll take time but I'm sure it will work out." There was a lace of doubt in her words. Persuading all of them at once proved to be difficult even for the Night Court's third-in-command. "I did enjoy the assortment of wines they have though. Some of the kingdoms' cellars were magnificent; I should tell Rhys to have one made."

_Well, Azriel got that part right_, Zivia thought.

Mor handed her a cup of hot tea before filling one for herself and remained standing, leaning by the counter. They both sipped on their drinks in silence. She patiently waited, figuring Mor might have wanted to tell her something and the fact that she brought her _here_, away from the others, means that it wasn't anything she wanted to let them know of. The strain in Mor's face was apparent and she wasn't sure whether to reach out for her or just let her be. Finally, she looked at her, expression full of uncertainty. She opened her mouth then shut it, dropping her gaze back on the cup in her hands.

"It's alright." Zivia almost whispered. "You can tell me about her."

Mor's head whipped up to her, eyes wide with surprise. She gave a sympathetic smile and nodded towards the receiving room. "I don't suppose that lilac coloured overcoat back there is yours. Doesn't seem to suit your style."

For a few seconds, Mor stared at her in equal parts shock and amusement. "You're just as sharp as your mother, you know, with a dash of your father's humour. Drakon must be proud."

"I'm not entirely sure about that." She muttered, glad that the tension somehow eased a little.

Mor tossed back the contents of her cup, emptying it in one fluid motion and heaved a deep sigh. "The thing is, during my time at the Continent, I've had a lot of time to think about…certain things…and how it affects my current situation with her. I knew from the start that this wouldn't be easy but…I'm not sure. I love her. I do, so much. After so many years."

"Mor…"

"I don't know if this is going to work out after all. Rhysand and Feyre are doing what they can but we are not sure if this will push through especially since we can't even determine our current situation with the Mortal Queens. I won't lie to myself, I am scared." Her hands fumbled around her empty cup; thumbs tracing lazily over its rim. "After I came back, I told her…she didn't take it well." Pain etched across her face as she looked over to the adjacent room, possibly the bedchamber, the echoes of their recent disagreement still lingering in her mind.

"Where is she now?"

"Back at the mortal lands. Said she needed time to clear her head."

Zivia carefully chose her words. "I think you should talk to her."

"I can't," Mor's voice was a groan of frustration. "I don't think I can face her after what happened." She shook her head as if to rid herself of the negative thoughts. Pushing out of the counter, she stood by the door staring at the garden lining the back of the kitchen. "I don't know what to do next. I want her but I can't bring myself to drag her into something that I know would eventually end up hurting her. By the Cauldron, I can't even tell anyone about our relationship! How utterly pathetic."

"It's not," said Zivia softly, joining Mor outside. "Don't be too hard on yourself. What you have is nothing to be ashamed of. It is a very wonderful thing to experience love no matter what form it comes. Love is love. It is the strongest magic possessed by fae and mortals alike and the only thing powerful enough to cross that barrier between our worlds."

Mor plucked a flower from a bush and rolled it over her knuckles. "Do you really think it possible?"

"Of course!" Zivia replied with a little too much enthusiasm. "I mean, have you seen how many half-borns are in Cretea? Imagine how crowded our island would be if the humans have that same animalistic…_desire_ as a newly mated fae. Mother above, we'd be like rabbits in a small warren." She was glad that elicited a smile from Mor. She wouldn't know what else to do if she started crying in front of her. "My point is I understand how you feel. As much as we try to veer away from it, some faes back in our island couldn't help falling for a human." Her gaze went to the flower on Mor's hand. "Loving a mortal has its obvious drawbacks of course. I'm sure you're well aware of that." It has only been a few minutes but the petals were now limp over its stem. It's going to die soon.

Mor held the flower for a while longer before letting it fall to the ground. "And you? Have you ever fallen in love?"

"Well…" Zivia contemplated before continuing. "I did. Once."

Memories from three centuries' past came rushing back at her from the grave she'd tried burying them. Seems like even time wouldn't let her forget. _Does she want to?_

Mor was still looking at her, expression laced with worry and curiosity. She realized she was waiting for her to continue. Stomping down her growing anxiety, she went on. "Ours really didn't have a happy ending. But my fault entirely."

Mor let her words hang in between them before quietly asking, "What happened?"

The scene played out in her head. Of all the things, his face was the first to come up in her mind and a little jolt of pain tugged at her chest. He was a beautiful mortal and he stole her heart with that innocent smile of his. They were happy. But for some stupid reason, she felt undeserving of it.

"I left him," she mumbled.

Thinking back, she believed that she was just scared – afraid of letting herself love when she knew that one day it would all be gone and she couldn't imagine how it would be for her to see it all die and have to outlive whatever it is that they had.

Mor was silent beside her.

She was trying so hard to stop tears from forming in her eyes lest they start falling and she couldn't stop.

"I later realized how stupid I was for doing that." There wasn't even a wall separating them from each other but she acted like there was one. Fear took her in its iron grip and wouldn't let go. With time, things became a little easier for her to forget but the pain felt all the same – like a hammer shattering her heart into a million pieces – every time a slip of her memory reminds her. He let go of her too, just as she did with him, going on with their separate lives.

"After some years, I went to see him." A cloud had partially covered the sun, casting shadow on both their faces. She took a breath to calm her thundering heart. "Only to find him on his deathbed."

She felt a flinch from Mor.

The memory was as vivid as if it only happened yesterday and not centuries ago – she remember seeing his frail body on the bed, how light and cold his hand were when she took it in hers, remember as he called out her name with his dying breath and told her how he waited for her to come back all those time. "I begged the Cauldron then, to give him another day – even just another hour. Anything, I would have done anything if it meant I can be with him for just a little longer. But it was too late, I was out of time."

The wind stopped blowing and the trees stopped rustling as if to mourn with her. She started shaking her head. "It was the biggest regret of my life."

The sky cleared and she turned to Mor. "Funny isn't it? How an immortal like me can run out of time?" She lifted her face towards the sky, soaking up the heat to make her feel alive. "They come and go, like specks of dust compared to the eternity we have."

Shifting on her legs, she reached out for Mor. "I don't want you to make the same mistake that I did. Dwelling on what might happen isn't any better than wondering what could've happened. As much as it scares you too, take comfort in knowing that though she may not be with you for the rest of your life, you will be for the rest of hers. That is a thousand times better than all the what ifs you'll have if you let this all go. Be with her. Make it work – together."

* * *

Zivia hadn't heard from Mor the following days though she once saw her talking to the High Lord, but then leaving just as quickly as she came. She doesn't know if she was able to talk to Briar and mend things between them and could only hope that there was at least some progress. But it was Mor, she'll manage.

The clouds parted, revealing a night sky full of glimmering stars, the moon casting a bluish glow over the city and the mountain peaks. Zivia focused her attention on an incoming figure from the horizon as she detached herself from the railing. Azriel landed soundlessly on the balcony later, wings tucking gracefully on his back. Without any preamble, he presented a box wrapped in teal silk ribbon. "Feyre asked me to deliver it to you."

Her brows creased as she took it from him. She inspected the box; it had no other markings around it except for the Night Court's insignia embroidered on the ribbon itself. Placing it on her hip, she carefully pulled on the silk band and lifted the lid. Tissue paper crinkled as she dug inside until her hand met soft fabric. She picked up the garment, running her fingers over the delicate material and smiled despite herself.

The other day, she and Feyre, along with the High Lady's sister went to a shop in Velaris to have their dresses made for the upcoming Starfall event. The tailor must've sent hers along to the estate.

She set the dress back into the box and replaced the lid. "Thank you."

Azriel must not have heard her or there was something else he came for because he still lingered, his expression all but serious.

"Are you waiting for me to try it on?"

He looked at her, visibly taken aback. Blush crept up on his neck all the way to his ears. "Wha – I. No…sorry." He collected himself and turned to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night."

The sudden formality in his voice made her instantly regret her decision to tease him.

"Wait!" Zivia yelled, almost dropping the box as she tried reaching for him. "I was only joking. Mor's fine." The Illyrian halted mid-stride, his wings already open for flight. "She's all right, don't worry."

He gave her a curt nod over his shoulders before soaring into the night sky, disappearing among the clouds that started to swallow the moon and the stars once again.


	13. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

Everything seems to be in a hush whisper as the city prepared for the Starfall event. No moon was out tonight over the backdrop of a starless sky to greet Zivia. Overhead, all the lights in the whole city of Velaris were dimmed. Every structure blended seamlessly in the almost dark, creating the illusion of an endless plain.

She brushed her hand over the front of her dress, smoothing out phantom creases then walked over to the mirror in her room. For once, her hair decided to cooperate with her and allowed to be left unbraided; half side of it slicked back and the rest falling in smoothly past her shoulders. She picked up a silver-chained tassel ear cuff and placed it over her right ear, completing her look.

Foregoing extravagance, she opted for a simpler a-line crepe dress in powder blue color, a rhinestone-studded silver lace belt the only glittering accessory in her whole ensemble, when they were shopping. The gown was backless as she requested, for her to easily wear over her wings. She decidedly refrained from adding any illusion on it seeing as it was perfect on its own in her body. Stepping back, she studied her reflection and made the necessary adjustments with her glamour, mostly for the scars all over her back and some that were peeking over her bare shoulders. Satisfied, she went on to join the others on the outer balconies of the House.

Dim lights and low chatter greeted her as she made her way towards the patio. Morrigan was the first one she spotted, hunched over a table of food and beverages. She maneuvered her way towards her, careful not to knock over any revellers with her wings.

"Hey," she said as a way of greeting. "I thought you weren't gonna come."

"Zivia!" Mor shrieked loud enough to draw attention from a nearby group of faes. "You look absolutely magnificent!"

"So do you." She replied as she eyed Mor's plum bodycon attire. It was a two-piece velvet gown with a top cut short just above her belly button showcasing off the curves of her midriff. Her eyes travelled up to her face, choosing to comment on her broad smile rather than her well-nigh exposed cleavage. "You look rather ecstatic. I take it everything went well?"

Mor's grin was almost blinding as a thousand diamond jewels. "More than well. Come on, it's about to begin soon."

Zivia allowed herself to be dragged over to a spot with a better view of the sky and with less people.

"What drink do you want? I'll get us some, wait here."

Mor disappeared among the crowd even before she could answer.

There were quite a few partaking in the celebration and Zivia looked around hoping to see more familiar faces. Right across from where she was standing, she saw the Lord and Lady of the Court having a conversation with some strangers and Mother above, they were a sight to behold. The High Lady wore a black tight-fitting dress with a slit that shows one of her slender legs. It was covered in embroidered beads that sparkle like stars when the light hit them in an angle. The High lord dazzles just as equally beside her in his white shirt and matching black sparkling jacket.

_They sure do live up to their title,_ Zivia thought.

Feyre caught her gaze and smiled at her, lifting a toast in her direction. She would've returned the gesture if she had something in her hand to toast as well. But she didn't so she just waved back.

"What's taking Mor so long?" she said to no one in particular.

As Zivia looked around for her missing companion, she noticed a red-headed stranger. Well, almost everyone here is a stranger to her, except those she already knew, but the man looked out of place and very noticeably doesn't belong among the others. When he turned his head, Zivia saw that one side of his face is marred by a scar running down from his brows to his jaw, going over one eye – which she realized was made of gold metal, replacing the one undoubtedly damaged beyond repair by whatever inflicted that wound. That didn't diminish his attractiveness, however. In fact, the mark seems to add more to his charm – a charm that apparently caught the attention of the High Lady's sister.

Zivia watched curiously as Elain, resplendent in her pink floral tulle gown, snuck nervous glances towards the mysterious stranger before deciding to approach him.

_This looks promising._ Inching a tad closer, she inclined her head to see more from the intriguing scenario unfolding before her.

"I never pegged you to be the snooping sort."

Her heart almost leaped out of her chest, catching herself and feigning nonchalance before facing the intruder who dared disturb her. She was grossly fascinated with what was happening between Elain and her svelte fellow that she didn't feel Azriel approach.

"I wasn't snooping" she denied, "I was…observing." Zivia crossed her arms over her chest for added effect, though she knew damn well she wasn't going to fool anyone, least of all the spymaster himself.

Azriel chose not to comment further and she didn't know whether to feel relieved or insulted. He handed her a glass of sparkling champagne and nodded towards a group of revellers having a rather lively chat. A golden-haired woman laughed at what one of the strangers said, her rollicking cackle echoing across the room.

No wonder she was taking so long. Morrigan got completely sidetracked and forgot about her. Or not, since the drink Azriel gave her most probably came at her request. Zivia took the champagne flute and downed the drink in one gulp, taking satisfaction at the warmth it brought. She placed the empty glass at the nearest table and went back to Azriel.

"You look different," she mused, taking in his crisp tunic which perfectly outlines his fit body. The fabric is in a deep blue color it almost looked black – a suitable shade accentuating both his deep complexion and the siphons gleaming on the back of both his hands. It was plain compared to the High Lord's flashier garb but the shadowsinger made that simple of an outfit look regal on him. "You're frowning less today."

She quickly turned away, focusing on a spot beyond the balconies. A blush was creeping up her neck and cheeks. There was always that acrobatic move her heart is making whenever she stares a little too long at him. And she hated it. She took a deep breath of air to calm her nerves and regain control.

"You look beautiful. Blue suits you well."

_Well, fuck._

Her nose suddenly felt itchy and she walked over to the railing to lean on her elbows before she could fall on her suddenly wobbly legs. "Thanks," she said over her shoulders, not trusting herself to face him without revealing how much his words affected her. It was so absurd. It wasn't even much of a confession as it was a compliment. Yet why does she feel like someone just proposed to her? It was so stupid. She felt so stupid.

"So, what is this all about?" Zivia gestured at the party, glad that the diversion she needed came so easily to her. "Are we going stargazing? Because there sure are plenty of stars out here tonight."

Azriel gave his own version of an eye roll at her sarcasm and pointed at the blank sky. "Sort of."

"There's really noth–"

Her protest was cut short as a star vaulted across the sky, so close that she could've reached out and touched it. The revellers behind them as well the city overhead cheered and toasted their glasses as it disappeared into the horizon.

Another followed suit, just as bright and close as the first one. Before she knew it, the whole night sky was covered with thousands of falling stars, igniting the whole city with gleaming brightness.

"Oh _wow_."

It was like the heaven crashed down on them; a kaleidoscope of white and blue everywhere. Never has she seen anything like this before.

"This is amazing!" Zivia turned to Azriel.

The shadowsinger had his head tipped towards the sky, eyes glazed with the phosphorescence glow of the stars swooshing past them. His voice was a soft whisper when he spoke. "I know."

He looked so unguarded and so at peace that she longed to reach out and touch him just to make sure he was real. She stopped herself before she could act on her foolish thoughts. Azriel turned to her and she couldn't help admiring the innocent look on his face.

She hated it whenever he would slide back into that cool, impassive exterior of his. Hated the fact that he could shut his emotions off so easily like one would flip a switch. And most of all, she hated the fact that she was staring yet again.

_Damn the Cauldron._

"What?" asked Azriel.

"Nothing." She gave him an impish smile. Gathering up the skirts of her gown, she hopped onto the balcony railing and stood precariously on the edge, the fabrics of her dress billowing in the wind like smoke.

"What are you doing?" The slight concern in his voice almost made her laugh.

He must've forgotten that she was completely capable of preventing a certain death should she fall into the ravines below. She slowly turned to face him.

"You look good in blue too."

Without giving him time to react, she let her feet slip off the railing.

It was an exhilarating drop. The wind mercilessly whipped in her face and she had to maneuver herself facedown to prevent a bunch of hair becoming her dinner. Midway through, she splayed out her wings abruptly, stopping her fall, then shot back upward enjoying the thrill of defying the pull of gravity on her feet. She flew past Azriel, who was leaning over the balcony before tilting his head at her hovering above him. She could've sworn he was smirking.

Must be the wind.

She continued way up into the top of the House, fixing her now messed up hair into an equally messy updo as she landed. Inhaling a mouthful of air, she counted to five before releasing her breath through her mouth. _Much better._ She looked at the still streaming stars, now in full unobstructed view and upon closer inspection, realized that they weren't really stars at all but spirits – in glowing orb form.

A soft chuckle caught her attention. It wasn't from the celebration on the balconies below – it didn't sound as muted as it should this far up. The source must be nearby. She went to investigate and sure enough, found the High Lady lounging in a small private balcony jutting from the upper level not too far from her. The High Lord was with her, pulling her into his arms and pressing a kiss to her forehead. The gesture was so sweet it elicited a warm feeling and also a sense of longing in her core. She missed her parents back in Cretea.

A soft beat of wings broke her from her thoughts and she backed away slowly before they caught her intruding on their personal affair.

"Okay," she said, holding her palms out in surrender. "I really _was_ snooping this time. Not that it was intended though. How long is this gonna last?" She gestured at the stars.

"Hopefully until past dawn. There have been fewer every year."

"Hmm."

Another giggle came from the love birds below and Zivia glanced to see that they were now slow dancing, their bodies pressed together under the falling stars. _They look perfect together._

"Of course they are."

She hadn't realized she'd said that thought out loud.

"They're mates," Azriel continued, "They are made for each other." He looked at Rhysand and Feyre with a melancholic expression.

"That's just nonsense," she blurted out.

He looked at her with knotted brows and waited for her to explain. "They look perfect together because they _are _perfect for each other. Being mated doesn't really mean that you were bound to be made for each other _no matter _the circumstances are. The bond isn't always a guarantee of a good relationship with someone."

She waited for him to say something, but he just stood there silent. One of the stars blazed close by and Zivia reached out her hand to trace the trail it left in its wake.

"Do you know why males were almost always the first one to discover the bond? And why only on their part would there be difficulties should it ever be rejected by the other?"

"No."

"I don't know either. But don't you think that's a very valid question? I mean, wouldn't it be better if the bond snaps _only_ in the presence of a true, deep… transcendental… love, or whatnot, rather than it manifesting itself even before you get to know each other? '_I claim thee to be mine_ _because some numinous power told me that you and I belong together!'_ Doesn't that sound ludicrous to you?" A choked laugh escaped Azriel's lips. She willed herself to keep a straight face as she continued on with her disquisition. "Humans evolved better than us in this regard. And we're supposed to be the superior race!

"Not that I have anything against this… gift… of the Cauldron, if you want to call it that. My parents were, afterall, mated themselves. I guess spending such a long time with mortals kind off veered my perspective about all of our beliefs." She looked up at the sky thoughtfully. "That kind of calling doesn't apply to them, yet they were still able to find love and happiness regardless of whether there is a bond or not. It is completely their choice who to choose as their equal without having to rely on an otherworldly magic to decide it for them."

Zivia couldn't decipher the new expression on the shadowsinger's face. A falling spirit careened close to her and she ran after it, catching it in her hands. She opened her palms to reveal glimmering dust painting her fingers. "Woah."

She waved her glitter-stained hands at Azriel while grinning then cocked her head as she remembered something. "Where's Cassian by the way? I haven't seen him around."

He seemed to ponder on the question before walking towards her in three long strides. "He's… somewhere else."

"I see."

They stood there side-by-side, wings almost touching, silently watching as the sky poured more of the star-spirits down and continually showering everything with a never-ending radiance of luminescent white. Zivia watched until her neck ached from looking up.

She went to see if Feyre and Rhysand were still on the balcony, another idea forming in her head. When she saw that the two of them were certainly not in any way making out, she turned back to Azriel, putting a finger over her lips.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What now?"

She winked at him and glided down to the lower balcony. The High Lord and High Lady were initially surprised at her sudden appearance but nonetheless welcomed her presence.

"I hope you are enjoying the party," Rhysand said.

"Very much." She dipped into an extravagant curtsy, bending deeply at the waist as she hovered in the air in front of them. She gave them her sweetest smile before flying higher up, almost joining the stars cavorting in the sky. She looked back to make sure that Azriel was still where she left him then opened her palms in front of her. A golden light bloomed in between them and she stretched out her arms, splitting it into two glowing orbs, one in each of her hands. She flexed her fingers and they multiplied. Then again, until there were now eight spheres of light circling on top of her palms.

Zivia willed the wind around her to settle before tossing the orbs into the air and making another set of them. The balls of light exploded into the sky like a handful of tossed glitters, brilliant and dazzling before sputtering out in a sizzle.

She heard gasps, followed by clapping and cheering from the revellers on the balconies.

Gathering the lasts of the sparkles, she flicked her wrist and the tiny spheres assembled – forming the insignia of the Night Court shining in vivid purple and silver colours. She turned to Azriel, feeling a sense of satisfaction upon seeing the expression on his face.

It was _definitely_ a smirk.

* * *

The whole city was asleep when Zivia left for the mortal lands, probably still hangover from the celebration that lasted until the break of dawn. It was a great night indeed and she might've enjoyed a little too much herself. But now, it was back to business for her.

She learned from Mor that the mystery male from last night was actually the High Lord of the Spring Court's former emissary and who's now at the Mortal Lands helping Jurian.

She knew things about her mother's former lover. It won't definitely sit well with her father if he knew she was going to meet with him. The thought of his angry face tugged at her resolve but she didn't give in.

_Eh, it'll be fine. He's not here anyway._

The air was a little warm today, sweetly soothing her body as she flew away from the Night Court and into the opposite end of mainland Prythian. Zivia had always preferred flight than winnowing; the former she finds much more enjoyable compared to the latter though it's much more swift and convenient – but boring. Overhead, a mountainous range loomed from the horizon. From there on, the wind dropped a good few centigrades. Zivia looked down and saw an ice kingdom below her – the Court living in an eternal winter. She passed by quickly over the other seasonal courts, slightly irked at the ever changing temperature as she flew from one territory to the next. Upon reaching the Summer Court, she slowed down as she observed a land completely destroyed of its beauty.

This was the war zone, where the most damage was inflicted during the battle. She flew closer to the ground and almost regretted it immediately. It was worse up close – everything was almost left as it was during the conflict, as if nobody can be bothered to clean after the mess. The Spring Court looks…_dying_. Zivia forced herself to proceed on with her journey, leaving the deplorable court behind. Finally, without any more delays, she arrived at her destination.

She landed and stretched out her wings to ease some strain, glad that the air felt comfortably warm again. It was a long flight and her back muscles ached a bit from the effort.

"Should've taken some breaks," she sighed then tucked her wings and looked around. There wasn't anyone – except for a little girl staring at her with eyes wide in either terror or shock. Or both.

Zivia crouched to the mortal's level and smiled at her. "Hello little one, would you happen to know where –"

Before she could finish her question, the girl let out a blood-curdling scream and went scurrying away from her, leaving her basket full of picked wild berries tumbling on the ground.

_Great._

Zivia had intended this to be a low-profile visit; just a quick talk to Lucien and Jurian, and maybe with Vassa too, if she was there, then go back to the Spring Court to investigate more and finally back to the Night Court before the sun had kissed the horizon. Attracting unnecessary attraction – and possibly having to contend with the result of one – wasn't part of her plan. A plan that wasn't going smoothly right from the very start.

"Wait!"

She hurried after the child, already half expecting to see a platoon of mortals armed with spears and flaming torches, ready to put her head on a spike and parade it around the village for everyone to see. It was another one of her absurd thoughts and she cursed herself for it. But what else was she supposed to expect? She didn't exactly know how things worked around here. Remembering that she could've used a glamour, she cursed herself a second time for not having thought of it sooner.

Catching up to the little girl in what appeared to the outskirt of a village, Zivia readied herself for whatever might happen as more humans showed up, called out from their homes by the scream. She had expected the worse – Azriel was definitely not one of it. The shadowsinger strode behind a red-haired male – Lucien – as if he was just taking a casual walk in Velaris.

_ "What are you doing here?!"_

He looked at her and inclined his head to the side, "What are _you_ doing here?"

She opened her mouth to answer then suddenly remembered the girl she was chasing. "The child, I didn't mean to scare her."

"It happens," said a smooth male voice behind her and saw Lucien gesturing to the villagers as if to say that he's got it under control. "Unsuspecting villagers would often come across faes who have gone over the mortal border and gets frightened." He led them farther from the townsfolk. "We've been trying to limit inter-territorial crossings since after the war to avoid further conflict from both sides and things like these from happening, though we really couldn't completely prevent it. Some of the High Lords suggested precautionary measures for their denizens who wish to go to the mortal lands. Surely you know of that?"

"I – yeaah."

Actually, she didn't. She doesn't want to admit that she was uninformed, especially infront of the spymaster. Embarrassment clawed at her and she refused to meet his gaze, scratching the tip of her nose instead.

"You looked like you were about to march into battle back there."

Lucien had the nerve to cock an eyebrow at her before turning on his heels and marching away. For a second, she was tempted to hurl a dagger at his retreating back before Azriel stopped her with a question.

"I don't suppose you told Rhysand you were going to come here?"

"I didn't know I needed his permission." Her words came out with more bite than she intended, still feeling vexed from scar-boy's mollified insult.

"You coming or not?" Lucien half-shouted over his shoulder, already a few meters ahead of them.

She almost bared her teeth at him before perversely following him to wherever they were going.

This may not be a smart plan afterall.

* * *

"Oh."

Lucien's face was a part-shocked-part-confused mess after hearing of her mission and where she was actually from. "I didn't know you were Drakon's daughter."

Zivia wasn't sure why, of all the things she just told him, he chose to make a point of that.

"I apologize for my earlier treatment. I should thank you for your help."

It was the least of the things she anticipated from him. Twice now that someone had acknowledged the noble aid their people provided during the war through her. As much as she doesn't want to be the one receiving their gratitude, knowing that she really didn't do much at the time, she still accepted it.

"Lucy!" A tall, dark brown-haired man barged in through the door. "I heard there was another crossing. So who's the unfortunate – " his coltish smile quickly vanished when he noticed there were others in the room with him. "Sorry. I didn't know we have guests."

"Honestly Jurian," Lucien snapped. "You shouldn't make fun of everything and take this more seriously. For Cauldron's sake, these are your people now!"

Zivia studied the man before her. _So this is him. Hmm, not bad, mother._

He appeared well, considering the ordeal he went through for over five centuries at the hands of Amarantha. Also, he wasn't exactly what her parents told her he'd be. Something definitely changed in him.

Jurian looked at her, scrutinizing her face the same way she did, as if trying to figure out something he couldn't quite place – and watched as recognition dawned on him.

"Hello." She politely smiled.

"_You."_

"I'd say my mother sends her regards but – " she lifted one shoulder. "I don't make a habit of lying."

Confusion registered on his lean features but he quickly shook it off and snickered. "Of course." He looked her up and down. "Beautiful like your mother, no doubt about it. Pity that you have also inherited your father's –" he broadly gestured at her form "- _unfortunate_ features."

"Wha-"

"Easy, sweetheart, I was just joking. I've already made truce with your parents," He scrunched his face, feigning deep thought. "Well, sort of. Anyway, these people aren't exactly _mine_, Lucien. Yes, I'm currently in charge of this land but you may also do well to remember that I am still just acting under Vassa's directive."

Azriel shifted, speaking for the first time. "Semantics."

Jurian glared at him, not amused by his unwarranted comment. "What are you two doing here anyway?"

Lucien spoke before either of them could answer. "They came to inquire about any progression regarding Vassa's efforts on contacting the other Mortal Queens. Where is she anyway? I thought she was with you."

Jurian walked around the room while stealing snacks laid on the table. "Nope. She's at the Continent, checking on Scythia. There seems to be some sort of lord meetings going about." Zivia and Azriel exchanged glances. "About what, I don't know. All I know is she said that she'll be back before nightfall." He tossed a peanut into the air and caught it with his mouth.

"She better be. We wouldn't want these jittery mortals –" Jurian arched a brow at Lucien, reminding him that he's also a mortal. "…the _villagers_… be terrorized by her transformation if ever."

Zivia wasn't entirely sure she's following. "What transformation?"

"Vassa is cursed," explained Azriel. "She turns into a firebird every night."

"Cursed by whom?"

"Some dark sorcerer," said Jurian over a mouthful of peanuts. "The other queens sold her to him."

A feeling of uneasiness crept up her spine.

"We haven't been able to find a clue as how to break her from that bound," supplied Lucien. "Nothing much is known anout the sorcerer-lord either, other than that he resides in a lake deep within the continent…"

_It can't be._

"…and keeps other prisoners as well."

_No._

Zivia felt like a bucket of ice has been poured on top of her.

"_Koschei"_ Her voice was barely a gasp. She looked at the others, dread filling up her core. "Vassa was cursed by _Koshei_."

"The Bone Carver's brother?" asked Azriel, a thousand questions manifesting on his face.

She forced a deep breath, not able to hear anything besides the ringing in her ears and the unrelenting beat of her heart. The scars on her back tingled, reminding her of a pain long gone.

She turned to Azriel, forgetting all about his question. "I have to go."

Before anyone of them could protest, she stormed out the manor and winnowed straight back to the House of Wind. Azriel followed a second later, looking a bit concerned.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes." She considered the look the spymaster gave her. "No. I – I can't talk right now. I have to think."

"What do you know about _Koschei_?"

Instead of directly giving an answer, she gave him an instruction. "Don't tell anyone about this. Yet. I'll meet you with the High Lord later tonight." Without actually saying goodbye, she turned her back to him and walked to her chambers, hoping he understood that she wanted to be left alone for the moment.

Even within the confines of her room, Zivia keeps worrying over the curse that Vassa is under and couldn't sit still. If _Koschei_ was indeed the one who cast it, then it just means trouble is coming for them. After sending word to her father, she changed into her fighting ensemble and gathered her daggers.

Then she went to find the spymaster.

* * *

Through a vague map of the Night Court that she found in the library, she was able to quickly locate where the Illyrian mountains are. She spotted someone training juvenile warriors on a flattened area on the side of a mountain.

"...so it is very important to strengthen your core muscles…"

The general's voice boomed over the eager-looking trainees though their attention strayed to her the moment she came into perceivable distance.

"Everything will be pointless if you can't even hold your stances," Cassian continued, still oblivious to her arrival.

Azriel was about to interrupt when she stopped him with a shake of her head. She put a finger on her lips, gesturing towards the young warriors as they stared at her with both curiosity and wonder; it must be their first time witnessing another winged-family with feathers.

They somehow reminded Zivia of the little ones she used to train back in Cretea prior to coming here.

"Remember, you are the next fighters of our race. The new bearers of Illyrian pride so act like it!" Cassian finished with as much gusto as he stood front and center, both fists planted on his hips.

"Done?" asked Azriel.

He nodded once and turned to his brother.

"Zivia! I didn't notice you were here."

"Hello."

"When I told you to give them basics of the training, I wasn't really expecting an exhortation of some sort," Azriel complained though Cassian paid him no mind.

"What brings you here? Want to train with them?"

"No, thank you. I was actually thinking if I could borrow your…partner…for a while, if that's okay with you."

Azriel gave her a side glance even when Cassian's eyes lit up mischievously.

"Suuure! There'd be no problems with that. If you wanted to, you can keep him." He gave his brother a pat on the shoulder but Azriel batted it away.

"Thank you." She motioned at the shadowsinger then smirked back at Cassian. "Nice speech by the way."

As they soared into the sky, she heard the general's voice echoing as they resumed on their training.

"How did you know I was here?" Azriel's voice sounded muted with the wind rushing between them.

"I didn't. Have you told the High Lord about our supposed meeting tonight?"

"Not yet."

"Good."

Zivia stopped abruptly that Azriel had overtaken her by a good distance and had to turn back. "Change of plans." She held up a hand to block whatever he was going to say. "_We_ are not meeting the High Lord tonight. Instead, _you_ are going to meet with him and tell him – "

"Wh –"

"I'm not finished," she snapped. "You're going to tell him that everything's alright. But I won't be able to see him for the rest of the day. In fact, for a few days actually."

"You want me to lie to Rhys?"

"It's not exactly lying so much as not telling the whole truth."

The shadowsinger looked at her like she just spoke some gibberish language. She almost rolled her eyes at him before leaving. "Tell Cassian not to be too harsh on the kids."

"Where are you going?"

Zivia faced Azriel. Her wings beat steadily behind her, creating ripples of air that sent stray strands of hair into her face.

"On an adventure."


	14. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

"I can't believe you talked me into this."

Zivia spared a glance at Azriel, who was treading behind her as they sneaked back into the mortal lands at dusk.

"You say that as if I dragged you here against your will."

Silence was his only response, which was not that unusual. She herself hadn't expected that he would join her here.

The Illyrian hadn't let her go without proper explanation of what she meant when she said _adventure_.

"I was just being dramatic, okay?" she'd said then, back at the Night Court.

A cacophony of voices drew both their attention.

"…come back. I'll leave you to take care of everything here while I'm gone." A woman's voice.

"That's Vassa," whispered Azriel behind her.

She didn't know that she was expecting something from the mortal queen until she felt a twinge of disappointed upon seeing her looking as normal as a regular human being should be. Her blue eyes shone like opals in the dark, sharp and a piercing contrast to her reddish-gold hair which was an almost twin to Lucien's, albeit much longer and wavier. Her father was right, Vassa exudes the confidence of a strong and fiery woman – an attribute Koschei very much likes in his prisoners. Something he found in the majority of her people – her _sisters_.

"As if that wasn't what I was doing already – "

"Jurian." Lucien's voice sounded like a warning.

"Right. Sorry. As her majesty wishes."

Zivia could almost feel the collective eyerolls of his two companions as Jurian dropped to a dramatic bow.

She and Azriel kept at a distance as they followed the trio farther away from the heart of the mortal territory.

"Do you think she already knows?" she asked the spymaster.

"She's a smart queen. I bet she suspects just as we do."

They both came to the conclusion that if the other mortal queens were unconscionable enough to sell a fellow queen to a sworn enemy because of selfishness, then it is most likely that they might ask him again for help after the disastrous result of their alliance with Hybern. Though they couldn't be sure of what kind of bargain they would be willing to accept and how far are they willing to _sacrifice_ yet again.

When the remaining dregs of daylight vanished, so did the beautiful young woman before them. The transformation was quick but impossible to miss. It was as if a fire ignited from within the queen, turning her eyes into glowing embers before lighting up her hair and down until her whole body is ablaze with a light so intense it blinded her for a few seconds. An ear-splitting screech resounded over the land and she opened her eyes and saw a magnificent firebird hovering above them. Its feathers of fire glowed with the red and gold of molten lava, spewing sparks as it beat its massive wings in the air.

The creature circled above them once before soaring higher and flying away.

Zivia knew exactly where it is going. She was halfway to winnowing when Azriel grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back from the enveloping light.

She was so focused on the firebird that she almost forgot he was there with her. "What?"

"Where are you going?"

"Where else? I'm going to follow Vassa."

She didn't think that the spymaster's brows could furrow any deeper. Apparently, she was wrong. It's really a wonder how he hasn't got any wrinkles on his face yet.

"You're going directly to Koschei."

"We don't exactly know that's where she's going."

"Tell me I'm wrong then."

The intensity of his gaze made her feel self-conscious to even attempt another lie. She pointedly avoided his eyes and scratched the tip of her nose.

"Is that what you've planned from the beginning?" Azriel rounded on her. "You've been acting strangely ever since the mention of this sorcerer. What do you know of him?"

She gently placed a hand over his scarred hand that was still holding onto her arm and felt a tiny flinch from him as she slowly removed and lowered it away.

"Let's just say that I was unfortunate enough to be…_acquainted_…with him before. And I know that you're at this but now is really not the time for an interrogation. I have to go, see ya."

She vanished away before he could even take his next breath. But it was only a moment of reprieve for her when she landed as a thud from behind told her that he wasn't really on letting her go that easily.

"Honestly Azriel," she huffed. "You are under no obligation to follow me."

"I'm not." The Illyrian gave her a side-glance as he walked past her and looked at the sky. "No sign of her yet. She must still be over the eastern Prythian waters."

They were near the edge of the Continental faerie realms, the farthest they could winnow without sending their brains off on a jolly-good spin.

Zivia stared at the shadowsinger's back as he continued surveying the skies turned away from her. Clad in an all-black ensemble, he blended so perfectly into the darkness, commanding every shadow and wisps of the night around him – a true testament to his infamous title.

He shifted and looked at her over his shoulders. She couldn't quite see his expression but his voice was soft when he spoke. "When you said you were acquainted with Koschei, what did you mean?"

She took a moment to herself before she answered.

"Koschei was a dormant being when we first settled in Cretea. He was basically non-existent to us until a few decades later; Seraphim females started to go missing – they would cross over the lake and never come back."

Azriel inhaled sharply. "The other prisoners."

"At first, my father thought that some of the loyalists during the war were able to track us and had been the one responsible for his missing people, though we couldn't find any sign of them after scouring the island. This went on for two centuries. One by one, another warrior would disappear even after the precautions we've put in place. One day, I decided to investigate for myself, along with a few others. That was when we encountered him." She paused, the sting of the memory still fresh in her mind. "Three of my friends died that day. And I barely made it out alive."

She looked up at the sky. Still no sign of the firebird.

"After knowing the true identity of our enemy, my father decided to lock our border and set up the shield. He did it to prevent any more…encounters…with the sorcerer but had unknowingly cut us from the rest of the world." She shrugged at him. "You know what happened next."

Silence passed between them. Wind softly rustled the leaves as either of them waited for the other to speak.

"Thank the Mother I wasn't cursed," Zivia attempted at humour. "Not that I'm taking a jab at Vassa. It's just really unfortunate for her to have such wicked ruler-companions and speaking of which " – she pointed at the sky just as the firebird flew overhead them and continued northeast of the land – "we have to go. It's probably headed towards the mountains by the lake. It's a few miles south the border of Cretea."

She stepped into the light and looked back in time to see Azriel vanish before the portal closed in on her. A second later, they both reappeared face to face in the middle of a dense forest. Zivia studied the thick canopies above and winnowed to the top branch of the tallest one, strategically hiding among the leaves as she poked her head to scan the skies.

Azriel appeared on an adjacent tree top. "Are you sure about this?"

She turned to him. Maybe she wasn't that good at hiding her anxiousness as she thought she was.

He patiently waited for her answer, ready to turn back as soon as she says so no matter that he wanted to see this through himself. The spymaster has told her before they left the night court that Vassa was only summoned back to the lake once every week and with the building tension within the land, they couldn't be sure if Koschei would continue giving her that much leeway. Another seven days of waiting is something they could ill afford to take.

"Yes, I'm sure," Zivia said with as much conviction as she could muster. She wouldn't let fear paralyze her again.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the firebird approach. Its call echoed through the valley as it opened its massive beak and dove straight into an archway on the peak of the tallest mountain and vanished. They quickly followed, winnowing to a precipice overlooking the entire lake.

From where she stood, Zivia could almost see the range surrounding their island.

She and Azriel walked to the stoned arch carved from the mountain itself.

"That's weird," she muttered. "I saw it go through here."

The archway was just a hollowed part of the summit and leads exactly to the opposite side of the mountain.

"It did," Azriel told her as he walked through the short passage ending in a cliff and looked over the area. There was no sign of Vassa.

_Where did it go?_

Zivia studied the stone arch again, noticing patterns running through its base – swirl marks of some sort and, she realized with indefinite certainty, symbols of –

"Are those claw marks?" declared Azriel, suddenly appearing beside her.

"It appears so." She stepped aside and gestured at the archway. "This seems to be the entrance but – _what the?!_"

The air around her rippled and the entrance of the passage glazed, making it look like a misty image reflected from foggy water. A scream escaped her throat when the ground opened beneath her feet and swallowed her. She instinctively reached out a hand only to grab at nothing, and then she saw Azriel diving after her before the ground closed as soon as he jumped in and they were plunged into darkness.

They kept on falling down the chasm, which was too narrow for them to open their wings and stop their drop. Zivia was starting to panic because aside from not knowing how deep this entrance goes, she couldn't see a damn thing.

"Zivia!" Azriel's voice echoed through the hollow space.

"I'm here." She scrabbled around for him. "I can't –" Her knees banged onto a slab of rock and she lost control, sending her spinning in the air. "_Shit._"

She knocked into a soft leathery material and Azriel grunted as they both careened sideways. One of his arms wrapped around her waist pulling her closer, and the other framed the back of her head. His solid frame and heat were creeping into her senses, tugging at her resolve to resist. Her face smacked into his chest as they slammed hard into the stone wall. Then, they were falling again. Despite being disoriented, she managed to summon a gust of air to steady their descent and, hopefully, cushion their fall into the dark abyss.

* * *

_It was so dark and cold here. And so lonely._

_Azriel wrapped his wings together around his body as he curled up in the bed. No windows. No light._

_He opened his eyes but only darkness greeted him and so he shut them again. His heart hammered in his chest and he took big gulps of air trying to calm his nerves. He couldn't remember how long he'd been here but it doesn't matter – he's back. Back in this Cauldron-forsaken place his wicked stepmother had thrown him into._

_He reached out into the void, trying to get a grip on something – _anything_ – to steady himself as he pushed himself up. But his knees were too weak and he stumbled into the ground._

_He shuddered._

_He couldn't breathe._

_He clutched his chest, willing his lungs to contract and get some air into his body._

_He's drowning. His hands were burning._

_He is going to _die_._

_A ball of light bloomed behind his closed lids and he flung them open to see dark round eyes staring back at him._

* * *

"Hey."

Zivia lightly tapped Azriel's arm trying to wake him up.

She doesn't know how long they've been lying on the ground unconscious but when she woke up,her legs had gone numb from landing on an awkward position when they fell. Thankfully, her earlier maneuver prevented any further damage for both of them. At least that's what she hoped.

There was a shift of movement behind her and she blindly felt around for her companion. She flicked her wrist and conjured an orb of light to illuminate her surroundings. The shadowsinger was laying on his stomach to her left, his face crunched up. Beads of sweat dotted his temples and he was slightly shaking.

She nudged at him again, patting his cheek twice. "Az, wake up."

His eyes flew open and he inhaled sharply as he pushed himself off the ground and sat up. He was breathing heavily, eyes darting around looking for an enemy that wasn't there – yet.

At that moment, he looked so vulnerable and broken; gone was the warrior who braved a thousand foes with an injured wing. Right now, he looked like a scared boy who just woke up from a hellish nightmare.

"Are you okay?"

His startled gaze snapped to hers and his features softened as he calmed himself down. He rubbed his eyes with his palms, shaking his head.

Zivia scooted closer, gently taking his hand and pulling them away from his face. "Does it hurt? You hit your head."

Up this close, she could see the flecks of gold on the irises of his eyes – those two windows to his soul that had kept a hundred thousand things hidden. His eyes had always been the one to tell her the things he wouldn't say. All the words he'd left unsaid.

Now, as she looked into that maelstrom of emotions reflected in them, she felt a spark of desire well up from within that startled even her. She had to bite her lip to suppress whatever urge she had of indulging on that desire. Acting on her foolish thoughts is something she knew she would later regret. Still, her eyes wouldn't stray from the shadowsinger's gaze even as it slid its attention down to her mouth. For a brief moment, it stayed there, his mind seemingly at loss as he fought the longing she thought she saw in his eyes, before his focus went back to her then to the hands she were still holding. She dropped them immediately then stepped back, clearing her throat to hide her embarrassment.

"No, I'm okay." Azriel breathed as he stood up and looked around. "Where are we?" _Well, this is awkward_.

Zivia wrung her hands together, suddenly feeling the need to have to do something with them and surveyed the cave they have fallen into. Some of the nooks and walls were still covered by shadows, too far out to be reached by the light coming from the orb.

"Uhm I'm pretty sure we just ended up in Koschei's lair," she said as she also got up and brushed herself off of dirt.

She toed a skeleton of a bird partly buried on the ground. There were also decaying feathers about but they were too rotten for her to determine if it belonged to the unfortunate bird or to someone who shares the same physical attribute as her. She dreaded the possibility of her latter thought to be true.

A grumbling sound quickly set her on edge as pieces of rocks rained down on her. She looked up to see that the hole they fell down had closed up, effectively locking them in. Each of her senses sharpened as she prepared for the sorcerer to make himself known and attack them – which didn't happen.

She sheathed back her dagger and looked at Azriel, noticing the confusion on his face. "What is it?"

"The shadows here," he mumbled. "They're _dead_."

As if she has any clue what that meant.

"I can't hear them." he amended after seeing the look on her face.

Then it struck her. This place was indeed eerily quiet; even the wind had gone silent. The firebird was nowhere to be found nor any of his other prisoners. She closed her eyes and focused on the movement of the air around her.

"There's a tunnel on the left."

She pointed to where she felt the most pull and led Azriel in. The short passage ended up in a much larger cave with a glowing pond in the middle. The water emits an unnatural green light radiating the whole space that she has no need for her magic anymore. The light gleamed on crystal rocks forming the wall as high up as a mountain. Well, they _were_ in a mountain and they had fallen a very long way down.

Ferns and other vegetation were abundant around the reservoir, slicking their way from the edge to their feet. She walked around, still on high alert, when a glint of metal caught her attention. She dug her hand on the shrubbery and found something solid – and _sharp_. Her breath caught as she held up a familiar gilded weapon, its steel reflecting the glow of the water. There was a stain of dried blood on the hilt and few scratches that indicated it has been used to its extent and that the owner didn't go down without a fight.

A figure moved from the corner of her eyes. She paid it no mind, thinking it was Azriel and continued looking around the shrubs. The silhouette moved again and this time, she turned to it and saw that it was actually coming from the pond. She carefully leaned over the water, expecting to see some marine life swimming in its depth, but rather saw an image staring back at her – and the reflection was not hers. The dagger she was holding dropped to the ground with a thud as she looked back unmoving at that familiar face on the water; emerald eyes and that same innocent smile plastered on his face. It was all there, blinking back at her as if he didn't perish centuries ago. She had almost forgotten that face that she once so cherished long ago and now, it was almost like a mocking dream – impossible even – that he's here again.

She blinked and his image changed. Haunting words rang through her head as she faced the reflection now looking at her with the disdain of betrayal.

"_Why did you leave?"_

Tears pooled on her eyes without her knowing and she tentatively reached out a shaking hand towards the reflection. As soon as her fingertips touched the surface, the water rippled and the image vanished, breaking her from her trance. She quickly pulled back her hand as if she was burned and stepped quickly away from the pond.

_What the hell was that?_

As she composed herself, she caught Azriel's eyes from across the pond. The Illyrian stood stiff as a statue as he too appeared to be recovering from a stupor resulting from the illusion which was already gone. It was hard to tell the exact emotions playing across his features but Zivia could've sworn there was terror in his eyes. She could've dismissed it as an imagination had it not been for his quivering hands and beaded sweats around his collar. His jaw was set as he tried to shake the fear at whatever he saw out of his mind.

"We should probably get out of here," he said.

She faced Azriel with a new-found resolve even though her uneasiness doubled every passing second. "I have to find _them_ first."

He dared a glance at the pond before turning back to her, weighing their options. When it was clear that his answer would be against it, she shook her head.

"You can go. I'll find them."

Zivia knew she was being unreasonable; it was only a matter of time before Koschei finds them loitering around his cave and attack them, but she couldn't bear to think leaving her sisters after coming this close. Not again. But deep down inside, she knew it would be a futile effort if she went as she were. Battles aren't won by sheer resolve and determination alone, especially with an enemy she knew very little about. Conceding to step back for now, albeit grudgingly, Zivia met Azriel's eyes and nodded. There was a moment of stillness as she summoned her magic and prepared to vanish again into the light but stopped short when she felt something was amiss.

"I can't winnow out."

She tried again. And again.

Nothing happened.

The grim expression on the shadowsinger's face confirmed her dreaded suspicion. _They were really trapped._

"There's another tunnel there" – she pointed to a boulder on the far side of the cavern – "behind that stone."

Azriel was there even before she was finished with her sentence. The passage was too narrow for them to walk side-by-side so he had to go first. A ball of light guided their way as the spymaster's own minion shadows skittered ahead of them.

There were lots of twists and turns that they were either getting closer to freedom or walking into a much deeper trouble. Zivia could hear the shadows whispering as they curled around Azriel's ears, though she couldn't decipher them. Their sounds drifted through the ominous silence furthering the anxiety coiling at her stomach.

They've been walking around the maze-like tunnels for what she felt like hours when a strong gust of wind knocked them off their feet and sent them skidding across the rough ground. A transparent blue wall erupted before them – a solid shield from the onslaught of rocks that followed. As pebbles and large stones pelted the shield, Zivia quickly pulled herself up and sprinted along with Azriel, his shadows their guide in the unfamiliar territory.

A few minutes of adrenaline-packed running and with the shadows on the lead, they seemed to have outrun whatever was out there to get them. They didn't dare slow down and continued on sprinting through the tunnel. The incessant beat of her heart is ringing so loud in her ears, coupled with the panic swirling inside her like a ravaging storm, it was hard for her to concentrate on anything but to get out to safety and hopefully in one whole piece. Images of the rotten feathers back on the cave flashed in her mind and she almost lost her footing.

"Have they…found…a way…out yet?" Zivia asked in between breaths.

Azriel took a sharp turn to the right and quickly pulled her into a crevice.

"Oww," she muttered as her forehead smacked into the rocks by the sudden movement.

The Illyrian muttered an apology and led her carefully across. It was tight fit, but they managed. When they emerged, they found themselves in another cave yet again.

"This looks like a dead end," Zivia breathed as she scanned their surroundings, already looking for passages that might be hidden among the nooks.

Unlike the earlier one they've been into, this cave was empty, save for the puddles that were scattered everywhere, formed by the intermittent droplets of water from the smooth rocks above.

_Drip. Plop. Drip. Plop._

She looked on as another drop splashed onto the puddle nearest her.

_Plop. Drip. Plop._

That's weird.

She squinted her eyes to the ceiling and followed as another droplet fell.

There it was again. A weird sound before the water trickled down into the mud.

"What is it?" Azriel asked, noticing her furrowed expression.

"Listen to that."

She held up a finger as if to silence any noise that dared to interrupt. An echoing plopping sound resounded and they both looked up in time to see a fist-sized drop of water fall and splashed on the ground.

Zivia produced a light orb and held it up. "Is that what I think it is?"

High above them, water glimmered against the light in her hands. What she thought as an unusually sleek ceiling wasn't at all rocks and the weird sounds she heard were from when the water separates from the suspended pool above before dropping to the ground.

She thought for a moment then picked up a stone and threw it into the water. There was a splashing sound as the pebble broke through the surface before getting swept away by the current. She tried again with a bigger rock. This time, the stone floated inches from the surface before falling back to them. Zivia caught it then turned to Azriel.

"Do you think it's our way out?"

His shadows curled around his boots and snaked through his body to his ears. "We're under the lake."

He then flew to the ceiling and Zivia followed, hovering just an arm-length's away from the water. She reached out one of her hands, sticking it up past her elbows and felt the waves inside.

The water was ice cold around her skin, flowing freely in between her fingers. When she pulled back, they were wet and dripping. Forsaking any other cautionary measures, she encased herself in a ball of air and went to dive into the water. Azriel did the same, encapsulated in his own blue shield.

Zivia produced an orb to help them navigate through the depths as the water pushed through their shields, slightly rocking them. Seaweeds were abundant on the lakebed; their silhouettes looked like snakes dancing on the water. Or they might be eels. Goosebumps appeared all over her skin as she suppressed a shiver snaking down her spine.

_She hates eels_.

Shaking all the unhelpful thoughts that start to form in her mind, she pushed upward and away from the grasp of Koschei. The opening they just went through lingered in the distance – a portal to an underworld she never wished to be trapped inside again. As they were getting farther up, light started to trickle down from the surface – a warm brightness that indicates a new day has begun. They've been under the mountain for hours. The others would probably be looking for them now.

A strong current sent her rolling into Azriel, their shields thwacking against each other. Another stronger one thwarted her attempt to regain control and before she knew it, she was spinning inside her air bubble, unable to steady herself despite her best efforts. She dared a glance at her companion, who was also caught in a bumpy ride within his own ball and mouthing words she couldn't hear.

A seaweed slapped into her shield and Zivia felt her heart stop for a second before realizing that it was not an eel and that she's perfectly fine within her bubble. Or so she thought.

The waves became stronger, spiralling them in a seemingly endless circle within the depths. It was hard for her to concentrate but she managed to summon a little bit of her magic to try winnowing away. It was futile. They haven't gone far enough to be out of whatever spell the sorcerer had put on his damn mountain. The whirlpool refused to relent, keeping them in the pit of the lake and possibly trapped yet again.

Contents of her stomach threatened to spill out as vertigo and panic started to set in. she couldn't see straight and try as she may, she couldn't prevent getting battered by the current's force as she got thrown side to side. Black spots started to appear at the corner of her vision and she slowly lost control of her magic as well. As she got thrown sideways again, the force of the impact left a fissure in her shield and water violently seeped in.

But Zivia was too disoriented to notice. Her muscles had started to ache and it was through sheer determination alone that she hadn't puked her guts out yet.

Something grabbed her ankles. She thought it was Azriel before realizing that it was cold – and _wet_.

Before she could make sense of what was happening, she got dragged out of her fortress and into the violent waters. The initial shock of the cold assaulted her body. Her immediate instinctual response was to gasp – which proved to be a fatal mistake. Water burned her lungs and she scrambled to summon air before she drowned. She tried opening her eyes but the water was too murky and she just risked getting sand into her eyeballs.

The hands holding her down refused to let go.

She flayed around, trying to find something she can hold onto but the force of the currents pulled and pushed at her, sweeping her away like a leaf in a storm, tossing her around as if she were a lifeless corpse. Which she would be if she didn't get out of this quick.

Her wings had started to absorb water and became a weight that dragged her deeper down. She needs air – fast. Her mind screamed at her to take a breath but she couldn't – wouldn't. She clutched her chest, willing her heart to slow down its beat lest she exhaust the remaining oxygen in her body. She was getting weaker and starts to drift into unconsciousness.

Mercifully, the whirlpool had stooped and slowly transitioned to calmer waters again. But Zivia was too debilitated to pull herself up to the surface. She didn't even have the strength to lift a finger. Her body was a dead weight continually descending the waters.

Something wrapped around her waist, her awareness too far gone from her body to determine if it was the enemy again or an eel or whatever else was lurking in the lake bottom.

She didn't care. She was going to die either way.

Just as she was about to succumb to the dark, her body broke through the surface and sweet warm air filled her lungs. She tried to push away from the grasp of who she thought was her captor before darkness swallowed her again. Water vanished from beneath her feet and she shut her eyes as she got sucked in and her mind whirled the same speed as the air around her. It lasted only for a snap of a second before she fell into solid ground. The vomit she had been holding in came out in full force before she could utter a word.

While she puked her insides out, Azriel pulled himself up and shook water off from his body. He was also a little wobbly when he came to her side and stroked her back. After she was done, she wiped her mouth with her wet sleeves and looked at him.

"We should probably stop doing that," she gasped, the toll of the long-distance winnowing still heavy on her body.

"Agreed." Water dripped from his slick-wet hair as Azriel looked at her with worry etched between his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she huffed as she dropped her head on his shoulders, taking in big gulps of air. "I'm still alive."

She relished on the feeling of air coming in and out of her body. The comfort they brought as well as the warmth from being too close with the Illyrian brought a feeling of safety that Zivia almost forgot the ordeal they just went through.

"Oh, there they are."

She almost tripped and fell in her hurry to put distance between her and Azriel as they both jumped away from each other, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

The High Lord stood at the edge of what she realized was the training grounds at the top of the House of Wind – and he is not alone.

"Told you they went on a clandestine trip together." Cassian's expression was so full of mischief that she longed to slap that grin off his face if she could.

But her attention was snatched by the familiar face behind him.

_"What in the Mother's name are you doing here?!"_

"Is that how you greet your father who hasn't seen you for more than a month?"

She stared at him, mouth slightly agape as Drakon waited in earnest for her response.

"Well I missed you too, sunshine," he said when she didn't say anything.

Zivia blinked at him. She knew they've been gone for a whole night but it was absurd to call upon her father.

She looked at Rhysand as if to demand an explanation from him but he just crossed his arms and shrugged.

"Honestly Ziv," Drakon drawled as he walked towards her. "You send that letter out of nowhere after weeks of not contacting us and I come here out of concern only to find you missing, with your supposed _overseer_" – he gestured towards the High lord – "having no idea where you've gone to."

"Actually," Rhysand interrupted. "Cas and I have come up with a few theories."

"The most probable one having been proven to be true," added the general as he wiggled his brows at Azriel, who gave them both a scathing look.

"Although, there have been a slight error at one detail since they seem to have gone for a night _swimming _instead of – "

"Shut it, Rhys!" Drakon almost growled at him but the High Lord only laughed in response.

Zivia rolled her eyes at the absurdity of their situation. A persistent throbbing in her temple warned her of an incoming headache.

"I'm too exhausted for this. I need a nap." She brushed off the remaining dirt on her clothes and shook the water out of her hair and wings. "I'll talk to you after I get my rest." She kissed her father's cheek and went to go.

She was at the top of the stairs down toward the main floor of the house when she looked back at Cassian and held a finger up. "And for the record, that wasn't what I meant when I said I'd 'borrow' him yesterday."

The Illyrian had the nerve to look at her as if in a dare to prove him wrong. She was contemplating whether to have a go at him when a raucous voice cut through the air.

_Oh crap._

"Zivia! You're here!"

A pair of slender arms pulled her in an embrace and almost lifted her from the ground. "I missed you so much."

Her _friend's_ enthusiasm was overflowing that the hug had become crushing.

"Uhh Seth…I can't breathe."

The seraphim let go of her and cupped her face in his hands. "Where have you been? What happened to you? And why are you soaking wet?"

Words had no chance to come out of her mouth as she got bombarded with question after question.

"I have been so worried that you…"

He trailed off, his interest caught on something besides her. Zivia was too burned out to care and was just glad to have him shut his mouth for a second.

It was already a handful to have her father here and he had to bring Seth too. _Of all the soldiers he has,_ she wondered.

She looked at him now, a certain glint present in his brown eyes. She followed to where he was looking and saw the subject of his interest. "Seth, don't."

The Seraphim looked at her and smiled. "Whaat?"

She shook her head in an attempt at warning him as the Illyrians passed by them.

"Rest as much as you needed," the high lord said to Zivia. "We'll see you at dinner at the estate."

With that, they walked down the stairs and as Azriel passed by the two of them, Seth murmured, "Hi there, handsome."

_Oh my goodness._

The shadowsinger was slightly caught off guard but he quickly regained his composure and nodded at them before following his brothers.

Zivia buried her face in her hands, shaking her head in utter shame. "I think I'm going to pass out."

Seth turned towards her, giggling. "I believe the princess term is fainting. Want me to carry you?"

She let out a deep sigh as she dragged herself down the remaining steps on her own, collapsing on the bed the moment she reached it.

This is going to be a nightmare.


	15. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

Zivia could've slept for the whole day if it weren't for her growling stomach. She realized that she hadn't eaten anything since their botched espionage yesterday and now her body is begging her for some nourishment. It took a lot of will to get completely out of the comfort of her covers and walk towards the dining area.

"Finally awake," Seth moaned from across the hallway. "Thank the Mother!"

She totally forgot about him and almost believed that he and her father coming here at Night Court was a conjured up dream of hers. Unfortunately, of course, it had to be real.

"What are you waiting for, standing there like an idiot? Come on, I'm starving!"

Zivia sighed and followed him to the kitchen. "Why does it sound like it's my fault you're hungry?"

"Well duhh," Seth rolled his eyes at her dramatically as he fixed plates on the table and offered her a seat. "I didn't eat with your father so I could join you when you wake up. Kinda feeling a bit of a gentleman back there." He lifted the lid off the dishes that were already served and she almost drooled at the scent of roast chicken that wafted towards her.

"Problem is, you slept like a fed pig! You know how long I've waited?"

The table almost rattled with the force as Seth slammed himself on the chair. Zivia couldn't help feeling like a child being scolded for throwing a tantrum. She just sat there waiting for her companion to calm down. But no matter how irritated she was at having to endure another prattling from Seth, that on top of being completely famished, it was still nice to see him again after some time.

She has known Seth all her life and grew up with him as a brother figure. There's only a thirteen year gap between them but she looks up to him as a mentor especially when it comes to training. Despite his lean physique, Seth is gifted in the art of combat, having been participated during the first war when he was just a boy. He further honed his skills under the tutelage of Jude and was actually poised to inherit her position should the general decide to step down. He has a loveable quality to him, although he can be a bit of chatterbox most of the time.

"Where's father?" Zivia asked when he finally settled down.

"With the High Lord," he answered while he stuffed both their plates with food. "He followed them to the estate not long after you fell asleep, told me to look after you."

"I see. You do seem enthusiastic about it." She swallowed a spoonful of peas.

"About what, looking after you? As if that wasn't what I've been doing since you were a drooling mess of a crybaby."

"And for that, I'll be forever grateful," She put a hand to her heart, mocking him.

Seth scrunched his face at her and continued nibbling.

"How's mother?"

"Fine. Misses you, a lot. She got so worried when she found out about your letter and took a lot of convincing from your father to stay when he decided to come here."

"Hmm. I bet he promised her the moon and the stars. Again."

They both laughed.

It has always been her father's tactic to spout poetry and whatnot whenever he and Miriam got into an argument. It can be a bit cheesy at times but Zivia finds it adorable. Besides ,so far, it still works.

As they continued on with their meal, Seth filled her in on what went back at Cretea when she was away – which was really nothing much.

"So tell me," Seth drawled, a certain glint present in his eyes. "How did your night go?"

The way he put emphasis on the word 'night' told her that he meant something different from what she was thinking, and she was not liking it.

"Oh don't look at me like that. I'm quite sure you had some fun with the handsome fellow last night."

Images of her and Azriel being chased by an unknown enemy in a darkened tunnel and her almost dying at the bottom of the lake flashed back in her mind.

_Yeah, right. Fun indeed._

"He's really got that classic gorgeousness to him, doesn't he?" Seth muttered in between chewing.

"So you've been telling me ever since you came back from the war. If only I've known that Az was the one you were talking about I would've told father to never, under any circumstance, allowed you to come here."

"Oohh, calling each other with nicknames now, huh?"

"That's not – "

"Oh shush. I know you want him for yourself, and it wasn't as if you weren't interested when I was telling my stories to you back then."

"My _interest_ – " Zivia pointed her fork at him for emphasis. " – is on a wholly different kind than yours."

"Uh-huh. Tell me about it." Seth knew, of course. He just enjoys teasing her and gauging her reaction.

"Well mine is pure curiosity and yours is…_sexual_."

His laugh echoed through the room, loud and deep. Zivia looked around, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. She was concerned that someone might be wandering the hallways and get ahold of their conversation and even worried that the shadows are listening to them. Words getting to the shadowsinger that the two of them were talking behind his back was the last thing she wanted.

"That's partly true," Seth declared. "You can't blame me though. You should've seen him lead the troop to battle. The way he barked orders and those wings – "

"Okay, that's enough!" Zivia slammed her cutleries onto the table and stood. She faced Seth and noted his arched brows. "I'm going for a bath and change. I feel sticky and nasty."

"Lost your appetite already?" He poured himself another glassful of drink and leaned back on his chair, his wings lazily drooping on either side of him. "Too bad. This wine tastes amazing and with our conversation, I just found myself more…_thirsty_." He made a mocking toast and smirked at her as he sipped his drink, pointedly making a slurping sound that irritated her more.

She made a dismissive gesture towards him and went back to her chambers, wondering how she was able to tolerate that idiot brother of hers.

* * *

"You done yet?" Seth shouted from behind her door, banging on the wood like he was trying to take it down.

"Just a second!"

Zivia scrambled to put on her tunic. Her wings and hair were still dripping wet and she almost slipped on the floor of her room.

"Can't you be a little quicker? Your father's already waiting."

She tossed her damp towel into a chair and went to her door. Seth was casually leaning on it and he almost toppled over when she opened it.

"You could've told me that before we ate," she snapped at him then pulled a comb out of her vanity, raking it through her tangled hair.

"What can I do? My needs come first." Seth strolled into her room, eyeing her through the mirror. "Why are you dressed like that?"

She looked down at her trousers and boots. "Does that mean it looks good or should I change?"

"Yeah it looks good," Seth sneered. "If you plan on going for a boar hunt, that is. Take it off."

"I thought we're in a hurry?"

He put a finger to her mouth, silencing her. "Shh. Just do as I say." He removed his finger and wiped it down her tunic, feigning disgust then snatched the combed away from her hand. "Give me this before you make yourself bald."

Zivia grunted at him as she went on to pick another clothing from her cabinet, pulling out a maroon dress with loose long sleeves and slipped into it, not bothering to remove her lower ensemble. Seth made a quick work of her hair, braiding it into a crown around her temples and fixed her untamable fringe. He turned her around to face him and wrapped a gilded belt around her waist.

"Is that really necessary?"

Seth stepped back and studied her. "Yep, much better. Let's go."

"Wait," She fumbled for her dirty clothes and grabbed her twin daggers then slid them over the holster under her dress.

Seth was already perched on the balcony when she caught up with him. His wings stretched out as he stared over the city below, savoring the air ruffling his dark curls and feathers. She joined him for a few seconds before taking into the skies and towards the estate.

It was a hazy day and the sun was partially cooped up among the clouds. The air was fairly warm but a chilly breeze from the west side of the mountains smell of an incoming rain. She knew the scent so well since Cretea's weather was typically wet most of the year and she had gotten quite good at forecasting just by the smell of the breeze on a certain day.

Thinking back, it had been months since she had an afternoon lazing around while watching the sky shower the world and she kinda hoped for a heavy downpour for today. Just for a moment of relaxation before everything goes south, which, given their current situation, would undoubtedly happen sooner or later.

"Uh Ziv?"

They were halfway to the estate when Seth halted midair and called her. "You go ahead. I just have an errand to attend to."

Before she can offer to help, he waved her off and descended towards the bustling streets below, shouting after her. "Tell your father I won't be long."

She was well on her way when she realized that she forgot to warn him of the incoming weather and Seth was already gone among the roofs of the city.

_Oh well._

When she arrived at the estate, it was Nuala who greeted her; she was picking flowers on the garden – a bundle of lilies and peonies already on her arms.

"Hello lady Zivia," she bowed in a fluid motion, her black dress almost like a smoke billowing in the wind.

Zivia frantically waved a hand at her, "No no. I already told you there's no need for that. You can just call me Zivia. It's perfectly fine. Please." She gave her an awkward smile, not sure how to deal with her formalities towards her.

She wasn't used to it even back in her own island. They may be considered as the 'head' family in Cretea but that was only in title. It wasn't an imposed position for the strongest but for whom their people trust the most to lead their country and unitedly chosen her parents to do so. Besides, she was in no position to leech off her parent's glory; all she did was miraculously survive in her mother's belly and be born with a gift.

Formal gestures were mostly reserved during occasions such as council meetings or trainings and, more often than not, as insults. Like that time when her father complained about the quality of bread her mother painstakingly prepared during one of their breakfasts.

"_Oh apologies _my king,_ have I offended you with my substandard cooking?"_ Miryam snapped.

Her mother wasn't in any mood to deal with his 'sensitivity' and had addressed him then as _your Majesty_ for the rest of the week, refusing to call him by his name. Zivia found it rather amusing and had turned to addressing her father that whenever he would complain of something so trivial. Soon enough, it has become a running joke in the whole palace.

"Sir Azriel is with the High Lord at the study."

"What?" Zivia snapped her attention back at Nuala, who was still bent over picking flowers. "No. I'm – I wasn't…looking for him actually." She cleared her throat and rubbed the tingles that went down her arms.

_Why am I being flustered? This is ridiculous._

She pointed to the stalks Nuala had gathered, attempting to veer the topic away from the spymaster. "What are those for?"

"Lady Elain thought fresh flowers would be a perfect centerpiece for the dinner table tonight."

She looked around, expecting to see the High Lady's sister in the garden too. As if reading her mind, Nuala gestured towards the house and added, "She's with Cerridwen in the kitchen."

"Thank you," Zivia smiled at her and walked towards the estate. She went to find her father first and as she passed by the dining area, a familiar voice drifted from the back of the kitchen.

"…more of the sugar perhaps. Just a little."

Curious, she stalked across the room and sure enough, she found her father leaned over the counter top, a half-eaten bagel on his hand as Elain expectedly looks on.

"Complaining about bread again, _your majesty?_"

Drakon looked at her, unsurprised by her sudden appearance and wiped the crumbs off his mouth. "It was one time, Zivia. ONE. TIME."

She arched a brow at him and crossed her arms over her chest.

"She asked for my opinion," – Drakon gestured at Elain – "I gave her one. But not that it isn't delicious dear, it is." He faced Elain again and wiggled the bagel in front of him. "Just that I'd prefer a _little_ more sweetness – "

"Father, stop. You're being such a bother to them. Come on."

Zivia motioned for Elain to continue on with her cooking and dragged her father away before he could further inconvenience them.

"Will you stop doing that," Drakon told her as he ate the rest of his bagel. "You look like your mother when she's angry. It's kinda terrifying."

"And stop munching. You already have a nasty paunch sticking out."

Drakon tapped his stomach and winked at her. "Believe or not, your mother surprisingly adores it."

"_Gross!_" She stuck her tongue at him and her father pinched her nose, giggling. She swatted his hand away and faced him. "So what now?"

"_What now _what?"

"I'm here."

"You're here."

"Yes, I'm here."

Drakon looked at her like she wasn't his daughter. "Aaand?"

"And I thought you wanted to talk to me? Seth and I came over quickly but he went on some errand on the way here, said he'll be back soon."

She waited for him to answer when her father suddenly turned serious and held up a finger. They stared for a tensed moment before Drakon let out a disgustingly loud burp.

At this point, Zivia contemplated whether to just end her life right then and there and free herself of all the miseries she would have to face by being this idiot's daughter. And for the nth time in her life, she again wondered about the choices her mother had made. _How did she end up with someone like him?_

"Sorry." Drakon cleared his throat and looked at her again. "Well, I did want to talk to you. But I figured you needed rest first and I already got a few deets from Azriel himself about your…adventure…last night. It's _quite_ interesting."

"Oh." Zivia tried to avoid her father's scrutinizing look. "Uhh, what did he tell you?"

"What did you want him to tell me, hmm? Zivia, look at me."

She met his gaze and noted the way her father looked at her with suspicion, like she's a prisoner he was about to interrogate.

"Is there something you might want to say to me?"

"About what?"

"I don't know." His shrug was almost comical.

Zivia had a strong hunch where this conversation is headed and with experience, she knew all too well that when it comes to her father, she got to go with what her gut tells her.

"Nothing."

Drakon raised a brow at her. "Nothing? At all?"

"Yes. Nothing." She was about to turn her back and leave when she remembered something. "Wait, so you didn't send Seth on an errand of some sort?"

"No. I – "

"Oh that lying toad!"

Drakon called out for her but she was already out of the house and couldn't do more to stop her as she left him and took flight. Their conversation could wait, all Zivia wanted for now was to find Seth and drag him all the way back to Cretea and lock him there for good. She was pissed. He actually fooled her so that he can go frolicking around the city by himself without feeling guilty for leaving her alone at the House of Wind.

"Just you wait," she muttered under her breath.

As if on cue, a cracking thunder boomed so loud that it left her ears ringing for a few seconds. Or maybe that was because of the high pitched scream that escaped her throat.

Overhead, the clouds had taken on a sullen shade of gray. Muffled rumbling continued sounding in the distance so Zivia flew closer to the ground lest she find herself toasted with lightning. The wind also seemed to have picked up speed, bringing along a chill that promised a heavy downpour.

The short repose she got from being distracted by the bleak weather gave her time to calm herself and dissipate her anger towards Seth. By only a little though, it's still there.

A tiny movement caught her attention. It was Azriel, standing near the river – and he was looking at her with his signature furrowed brows.

Maybe that scream was louder than she thought. _Just great._

She gave a forced smile and turned to continue her way into the city when drops of rain started pouring in. An internal debate ensued within her on whether to pursue her lying friend or find shelter for the meantime and let the rain pass.

Another boom of thunder became the motivation she didn't know she needed to go with the latter. It was good timing because as soon as she was under shed, the sky opened up in a torrential gush, sending splatters of water unto the tiled floor of the gazebo she and Azriel were in.

The structure was near the riverbank, a good few meters away from the estate's backyard and was probably used for picnics or any other outdoor leisure activities courtesy of the High Lord and High Lady. It was quite spacious, which made for an awkward situation as the shadowsinger stood on the opposite side away from her. For a split second, their eyes met before Azriel quickly averted his gaze and suddenly finding the roof so interesting.

_Is he avoiding me? Goodness, what did her father told him?_

"Hey." She croaked.

Azriel looked at her and gave a timid nod. "Hey."

"Pretty strong rain huh?"

_As if that wasn't obvious enough, idiot_, she chided herself, but she didn't know what else to say. There were chairs around but she didn't feel like it would help with the situation if she sat so she casually strolled to his side and looked over the river. Thankfully, he didn't move away.

"It's going to be for quite a while," he said. "We rarely get rains here at the Night court though, so this is greatly appreciated."

That was a fair amount of words in a single sentence for Azriel, she thought.

Wind howled in the distance, displacing yet another uncomfortable silence that followed. Zivia looked around, noticing small rivulets trickling down towards the stream. She remembered playing with them as a child. Whenever it would rain back at home, she would send boats made of paper towards it, watching as it floats away to wherever the water would take it, her face against the cool wet wind.

She walked towards the edge of the gazebo, sticking her hand out into the rain and relished the pleasantly cold water of the pattering raindrops on her palm. This kind of weather had always soothed her; the swishing of the trees as the wind brushed against their leaves – a prelude to the opening of the sky, the smell of the parched ground as it tastes the first drops of water and finally, the melody of a million rain drops as it thrummed on roofs and pelted the earth with its rhythm – it all brought a sense of calm and contentment as well as nostalgia.

"When was the last time you played in the rain?" Zivia asked, looking at Azriel over her shoulders.

The shadowsinger seemed to be lost in thought, his head tilted at an angle. She looked back at the raindrops falling on her still outstretched arm.

After a while, Azriel spoke. "Does clashing blades with Cassian during a storm count?"

A laugh almost escaped her mouth. "What?"

She pulled her hand back and wiped it dry on her tunic, frowning at the dark stain from where it had gotten wet, before turning towards the spymaster. "For real?"

_What did she expect_? It shouldn't have been a surprise for a warrior like him to consider sparring as fun.

He made a one-shouldered shrug and took a seat in one of the cushioned chairs in the middle of the gazebo. "We were training for the blood rite."

"Wait, what?!" Her voice came out thinner than she'd intended. "That was _centuries_ ago!"

She was about to make a speech about how ridiculous it was and how much he was missing in life but then he spoke again.

"I used to enjoy it as a child before – "

Zivia craned her neck a little, waiting for him to continue. She noted the sudden shift in him and didn't want to prod him into saying something he didn't want to.

"I just didn't find the time to do so, I guess."

It was a subtle change in subject but Zivia let it slide. Instead, she motioned towards the still pouring rain, raising her brows at him. "Well?"

He frowned at her even though one side of his mouth was curled in a half-smile. She was teasing him and he knew it.

"No, thank you," he said. "But I'd rather not fool around in something I can conveniently find in my bathing chambers."

"Oh tush! It isn't just about water. You're missing the whole point!"

The heavens were either agreeing with her or trying to thwart her convincing because just then, lightning struck, illuminating the sky in purplish blue light followed by a deafening boom of thunder that resounded over the whole city.

Zivia yelped and almost tripped in her hurry to get away from the edge of the shed, smoothing down the goosebumps that rose on her neck and arms. She settled down on a settee beside Azriel, her expression bordering on bashful.

A chuckle came out of Azriel and he tried to cover it with a cough. Tried but failed.

"What?"

He casually laid back on his seat and proceeded to shine his siphon. "I just find it quite amusing that someone who is willing to go on a death march towards a powerful sorcerer would be afraid of a little lightning."

"It wasn't just a _little_ lightning, it almost hit me!" Even she knew that was an overstatement.

"Yeah, right."

Her mouth hung slightly open in surprise at seeing this cocky side of the Illyrian. It was so unexpected that she couldn't help laughing at its absurdity – it started as a suppressed chuckle at her throat until it evolved into a full on chortling, complete with gasps and snorts. At first, Azriel just looked at her like she had gone completely nuts but sooner joined in her senseless merriment, laughing both their heads off as the sky continued on weeping around them.

After a few minutes, when their bellies and cheeks started aching and their laughs finally died down, Zivia turned to Azriel, wiping the tears on her eyes.

"Thank you, by the way," she breathed.

He looked at her with a slight confusion, the ghost of a smile present on his lips. "What for?"

"For saving my pathetic ass back at the lake. If it weren't for you I'd be dead already."

"That'll make two of us."

"What do you mean?"

"You think Drakon would let me live if I came back with your corpse? Not to mention your mother."

Zivia remembered the conversation she had with her father earlier. "Did – did he say something to you?"

Azriel looked at her then went back to shining his other siphons. "No."

"You hesitated."

"I did not."

"You suck at lying."

The smile was back on his face as he conceded to her statement.

They sat there in silence, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain when Azriel spoke. "Back at the lake," He paused, as if trying to find the right words he wanted to say. "The pond – you saw something there too, didn't you?"

Image of piercing green eyes flashed in Zivia's mind but she shook it away and replied, "Yes." The sudden mention of it brought an uncomfortable feeling deep in her stomach and she shifted in her seat to try to get it off her. "It was…an old friend of mine." It didn't seem right to call _him_ her lover and her voice almost broke as she struggled with the last words.

Azriel didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't show any signs of it. He just stared ahead into the river with an expression Zivia couldn't quite place. Was it sadness? Fear?

"I saw my brothers." His voice was a low whisper, just loud enough not to be drowned by the sound of the rain.

"Cassian and the High Lord?" she inquired.

_Does the pond show someone close to their hearts?_

"No." She caught his eyes as he turned to her, his face almost shadowed by his wings as he hunched over on his seat. "My half-brothers."

There was a sharp bite to his voice when he said those words and she noticed how his fingers flexed over the scars on his hands.

"Did – are they – "

He blinked at her and dropped his gaze to his hands, bunching them into fists in front of him. "I was eight when I discovered my shadowsinging gift. I didn't know how to control it at first but I was foolish enough to show my brothers anyway." He took a deep intake of breath and leaned back, staring straight into the heavens as he let his hands relax on his lap.

Zivia was at a loss for words. His scarred hands were the first she noticed when she met him and she'd always assumed that they were remnants of a battle long fought. To think that they were inflicted by his own family – no, they're not family. Blood-related, yes, but not family. No family would ever do this.

"I – I'm sorry," she stammered, not sure how to respond to that revelation.

Muffled thunder grumbled from up among the mountains, no doubt bringing in more water to wet the earth. The rain continued its assault on the roof, drowning almost even the thoughts on her head. She looked at his hands once again, noting the way the scar tissues swirled like the very thing that caused them. Burn marks, she was all too familiar with it.

"Koschei gave me similar scars when we fought him."

Now, it was Azriel's turn to look at her in surprise. She tried avoiding his gaze, unsure whether to continue. But there it was again, that pull she couldn't resist that would always urge her to turn to him and make it hard to look away. She steadied herself and the words were out of her mouth before she could even think of them.

"After killing my companions, he burned my wings and left me to die. I almost did – until my father found us." She felt prickles all over her back, as if her scars had awoken even though they've long been healed. "The healers were able to restore them but the burns on my skin were too deep. I was flightless for six whole months."

A shadow passed over Azriel's eyes but it was gone too quick she wasn't sure if it was just her imagination. Outside, the rain had started to dwindle and crickets had come out of their burrows to begin their mating songs for the day. Neither of them uttered a word, unsure of what to say after having been exposed to each other's past.

"I'm actually quite envious of you," she admitted after a few minutes of dead silence. "You show your marks without any contempt about it and it's not that I'm mad about having mine, the scars doesn't really bother me, it's just that . . . that when I look at them, I'm reminded of my failure to save my friends."

Zivia hadn't intended to pour out this much of her feelings but once she started, she couldn't stop. "It haunts me every day. Why did I have to live and not them?"

"Don't say that." Azriel had moved in his seat and is now facing her with a look of understanding on his face. "You did all you could do."

"It wasn't enough, was it? People back home would look at me with pity when they saw my scars – like I'm a weak, sensitive butterfly with stunted wings who couldn't survive without any help. It's so pathetic but maybe they're right. If I was strong enough, perhaps I could've saved them."

Zivia felt so pitiful at that moment, complaining about her problems to someone who definitely had it worse than her. But that doesn't make her pain invalid, does it? And maybe, just maybe, she wanted him to know about this part of her that she rarely shares with anyone and hopes that he'll understand and won't treat her like the others did.

"Stop." The snap in the shadowsinger's voice took her by surprise and she thought she had gone too far and irritated him if not for the look he was giving her now – it was far from anger. "You're not weak. You fought, you bled and you survived. You should never be sorry for any of that." He looked down at his hand – at the marks lining each of his fingers. "I constantly blame myself too. I was so naïve. I guess I just wanted to belong – to be accepted. It was foolish but now, I'm actually grateful for it. If not for _this_, I never would've known how strong and how capable I was of surviving on my own without relying on those who never wanted to help me in the first place."

His words pushed away the pity she was starting to feel for herself. She wasn't even sure why she had it to begin with.

"Have you ever confronted them about it?" she wondered out loud.

"Oh Rhys definitely did. But that's a story for another time. He and Cassian used to look at me with pity too back then." He turned to her, a certain glint present in his eyes. "They learned pretty quickly not to do it _ever _again."

She stared at him – at this warrior sitting in front of her – and she thought about him. A young and innocent boy who's barely past his childhood, taken away from his mother, imprisoned by his new family and still tries to belong – to be accepted. It must have been so hard and Zivia felt herself ache for him. It wasn't an easy journey for him to get where he was now. Maybe she could do that too.

His statement echoed those of what her mother had told her when she was struggling with her emotions weeks after the accident.

"Scars have a strange power to remind us that our past is real," she quoted, "that we survived and triumphed over what's behind us."

That was it. He had always worn his marks like a proud warrior that he is and maybe it wasn't just pride that made him not hide his scars in shame but also motivation – something that would always nudge him to go on in life no matter how difficult or hopeless everything may seem. A memento of what he's been through and of what he'd survived.

Zivia reminded herself that peace from her past is also just within reach, just how her mother would always tell her. She'll get there – in her own pace.

She breathed out a sigh of relief and subsequently felt embarrassed and stupid for her emotional rant. But that's just how it is, isn't it? Even faes are also capable of feeling weak and that they need some reminder from others to not let hope fly.

"Thank you."

Azriel gave her a perfectly arched brow she almost laughed. "What is it for this time?"

"For knowing exactly the words that I needed to hear."

Zivia watched as he turned her words over in his mind. He wasn't expecting that at all and the surprise on his face was as clear as the glinting siphons on the back of his palms. They stared at each other for a few heartbeats, before she looked away in shame over getting distracted by how close their bodies are and how she could feel the air between them warming up.

"Look, I – "

He wasn't able to finish his words when Azriel turned to a shadow that had suddenly curled over his ear. He closed his eyes briefly and let out a sigh. "Rhys calls for us. Dinner's prepared."

Was it just her imagination again or was there a hint of irritation in his voice?

"Uhh sure. Yeah."

Zivia rose from her seat, smoothing down her tunic that had been crumpled from seating and followed Azriel back to the estate.

No sooner had they stepped out from the shed than she saw her father standing a few paces across from them, hands on his hips like he was posing for some kind of a portrait. Only there was no painter but her and Azriel looking at him in consternation as Drakon slowly approached.


End file.
